


Investments

by DarkwingSnark, Moonbeamcat



Series: Real Values [3]
Category: DuckTales
Genre: M/M, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-09
Updated: 2015-10-09
Packaged: 2018-04-25 13:31:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4962472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkwingSnark/pseuds/DarkwingSnark, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonbeamcat/pseuds/Moonbeamcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things have been going well for Scrooge and Fenton: going on dates, becoming more acquainted with their families- domestic bliss was had. However, an ominous cloud hangs over them as the threat of losing everything draws near. - A sequel to 'Real Value'-</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Startup

_ _

* * *

 

_It was just so easy!_

Magica de Spell laughed to herself in condescending glee. Sneaking into the supposed 'heavily guarded' money-bin of the world's richest duck had been a piece of cake- the place practically a revolving door for the sorceress. The idiotic duck-sized can-opener at the front door had been ignorant of her presence as she made her way into the building- hardly paying Gizmoduck any mind. Getting past the workers and secretary even more so- as she was invisible to everyone around her. None were suspicious as the witch skipped her way right into Scrooge McDuck's office.

Of course, this came as no surprise to her, considering she had turned herself into a flea.

What she saw inside the office was McDuck, alone. Just what she had hoped for. The old miser smiled to himself as he read his newspaper- sporting the previous day's date. Scrooge was known to walk down the street around noon to buy his lunch from a local turnip vendor- always asking for his purchase to be wrapped with the business section so he could catch up with the goings on of the mallard chuckled, pleased with how he was able to score a bargain for ten cents.

' _Vegetables and the the semi-latest info on my minerals_.  _A much better deal than just buying a whole paper for $1.50_ ,' he mused, completely unaware of the company watching him from the floor.

"McDuck is thinking he is so smart," Magica mocked with a squeak, not even loud enough to be heard by anyone- let alone disturb the duck enjoying his paper and turnip. "He thinks he has prepared himself with hired help and new traps. But Magica de Spell is always being two steps ahead!"

After Magica ran out of things to say to herself, she sat and waited, watching Scrooge closely- her gaze shifting every now and then to the pedestal above her, not far away from the old mallard's desk. Upon it sat a small glass dome, and under the dome sat the one thing that would bring her untold power; Scrooge McDuck's lucky dime. After that day it would be hers! Hopefully. The plan was simple, sure, but sometimes it was the simple plans that ended up paying off.

At last the old fool swivelled his chair around, still preoccupied with his paper. Magica took advantage of his momentary blind spot, and in a flash, took her rightful form, swiped the case, and cackled. Of course, Scrooge had spun around the moment he heard the case being touched, and then he shot up out of his chair.

"Magica de Spell! But how?!"

He was already around his desk and dashed toward the thief.

"Ah, ah, ah! You're getting slow in your old age, Scroogey, heh heh."

"I'll show you slow, ya no good-"

He lunged for her and ended up with nothing more than a face full of smoke for his troubles; the witch was gone. He coughed and sputtered and swore like only Scrooge McDuck could- the foof bombs always stunk like passed gas on a sheep farm.  _Not that he would ever mention that out loud_.

There was no time to dwell on that, however, as the old mallard was already dashing out of his office- following that no good dime stealing sorceress. Magica was cackling as she hopped over desks and dodged screaming employees- her mere presence causing chaos. Her amusement was doubled even more when she recognized the sound of her enemy coughing up her smoke still, even as he chased her.

"You shouldn't be running at your old age, dahlink," she called from her lead. "You are going to be coughing up lung! Hahaha!"

Magica had just made it out the front door and halfway across the lawn- case still secured under her arm like a football- when she looked back to gloat some more.

"Oh, Scroogey,  _you make this so eas-_ ACK _!"_

Gloating was cut off short by running straight into a solid mass and momentarily losing consciousness. Falling onto her rump violently, the glass with her, the old witch's head was spinning as she tried to figure out what had happened.

"I… am not remembering there being a wall placed here."

Suddenly being lifted into the air by the back of her dress certainly didn't help her dizzying headache.

"Sorry, ma'am!" a familiar and loathsome voice boomed. "I'm afraid this is a no running zone!"

Magica, back to her senses and mad as a cat in a tub of water, began swatting and punching in Gizmoduck's general direction, succeeding only is boxing the air.

"Oohhh, let me go! Before I turn you into can of tunafish!"

Gizmoduck, of course, paid her no mind, and instead grabbed the case from her grasp. This only made her kick and swipe and accost him with even more empty threats. He smiled when Scrooge finally caught up to them, only slightly out of breath. He tossed the case back to its rightful owner.

"I believe this belongs to you, good sir!"

"Good work, Gizmoduck." Scrooge replied, catching it easily and giving it a quick smooch.

"Uhg! Enough!" Magica, having quite enough of this unjust humiliation, morphed into a buzzard, and took to the skies. Both Gizmoduck and Scrooge watched her go.

"Don't know what I'd do withoutcha." Scrooge said. Gizmoduck wasn't sure if he was talking about him, or his dime, but he figured this opening was as good as any.

"I'm more interested in what you might be willing to do with me, actually! Are you free this evening, perchance?"

Scrooge gave him a scrutinizing side glare.

"For what?"

Fenton lifted the Gizmoduck visor, and bent down to whisper to Scrooge.

"For our two month anniversary date, of course!"

Scrooge McDuck rolled his eyes. Ugh, not this nonsense again. The first celebration, after their first week together, had been surprising… though even Scrooge had to admit slightly charming. But by the time the second week came, and then a month, it began to get out of control. If somebody had told the old duck a few months prior that he would be having to deal with relationship woes regarding his accountant… why, he would have told them they had completely lost their mind!

Unfortunately for him, it was more likely the other way around.

"Fenton," Scrooge began slowly, after checking to make sure that they were alone. "Don't you think this is  _slightly_  getting out of hand? It's only been two months- hardly anything to brag about, might I add- and already you've gone celebrating three times."

"Four, if you count the private party I gave to myself at home!" The middle aged duck straightened himself up, before clearing his throat. "Though, I think I see your point. But… But you don't have to see it as a big thing if you don't want to! I am just as hunky dorey with it being a good ol' regular date. With no extra added meaning than just you, me, and us being we!"

Fenton's expression softened, losing some of his energetic optimism as he asked again.

"So… what do you say, Scroogey? Just a nice quiet date at your place. I'll make dinner- for the whole family even, if ya want!- and then afterwards maybe sit by the fire and talk. Doesn't that sound nice,  _even a teensy bit_?"

McDuck had to admit… it actually did.

"Well... alright. I'll meet ya back at the mansion, then." He flashed Fenton a stern glance. "After your shift."

Gizmoduck deflated in the slightest, but then realized his shift actually ended in fifteen minutes, give or take. He straightened and saluted.

"You got it, Scroogey!" and off he went, to take one last look around before their big- er, quiet date at home.

Scrooge frowned- hearing Gizmoduck call him "Scroogey" was still a little odd. Well, okay, more than just a little. But, no matter. There were more important things to see to at the moment.

"Let's get you back inside, washed up, and tucked away again, shall we?" he told his dime, unhappy with the smudges on the case he just washed.

It momentarily flashed the old duck's mind that maybe he was in a need of a little sprucing up as well.

* * *

Magica de Spell was furious.

Back in her newest hideout in Duckburg- an old Russian tea shop she had rented for the month with some of her last remaining funds- the witch paced around her storage room slash turned into living quarters. Poe, her crow familiar, watched with mild disinterest as the woman every so often would stop just to smack objects off of shelves- a strange and mix matched mixture of china and miscellaneous spell item. Magica still couldn't believe what had happened; everything had been going so perfectly! Better than perfect, for she had number one dime right there- in her mitts! She had been able to sneak into one of the most well guarded locations in the city, unnoticed, and even surprise the old penny pincher to the point he hardly knew what hit him.

"It was that no good bodyguard he is keeping!" The witch cried, smacking over the pot of tea her lackey had made to help calm her down. She glared at the steaming puddle inches from her heels, as if it was to blame for her plight. "Stealing dime was much easier before idiot was around!"

Finally, her rage evaporating into a slight simmer of frustration, Magica plopped into the nearest chair- slinking down to the point she was hardly in the chair at all, as she grumbled.

"Who am I kidding? Scrooge has always been just out of my grasp. Him and his dime. No matter what I am throwing at him, he is swinging back!"

Poe busied himself with the task of cleaning up the spilled tea- no easy task for someone without hands. Magica paid him such little mind, that she nearly stepped on him when she begrudgingly left her chair, and slunk over to the small table in the center of the room. There her crystal ball sat; perhaps the only thing that had been lucky enough to survive her angry rampage.

"But no one is invulnerable, you old fool." she told the ball, waving her hands over it as she had done countless times before. "Not even you! One day, you will slip up, leaving weaknesses wide open!"

The smoke in the glass cleared, and through it she saw Scrooge McDuck, sitting at his extravagant dining table. Magica sighed, and leaned on her own, very small, rickety table. What, was she going to watch the old man eat dinner? She guessed so.

This was her life now.

When she saw one of his servants bring him a plate of steaming food, her stomach growled to accompany her scowl. How wonderful it must be to lead such a pampered lifestyle. She was suddenly wide awake when said servant bent down to give Scrooge a smooch on the side of his bill- and the old mallard actually smiled.

"What? What was that?" Magica demanded, now cupping the ball in both of her hands, the orb practically pressed against her face as she watched raptly.

Her crystal ball became clearer the more she focused and concentrated on the scene- now allowing her to hear as if she was listening to a radio tell a serial. The middle aged duck in the scene sat down next to his boss, his own plate of food untouched as he eagerly watched and waited for the mallard next to him to try his first bite.

"Come on, Scrooge, don't be shy. I promise it's edible!"

McDuck managed to chuckle a little, picking up his knife and fork, and he began cutting into a bite of his meal: a medium sized steak and two fried eggs.

"I'm noticing a theme here, Fenton. Is breakfast food  _all_  ye can make?"

The one Magica assumed to be this 'Fenton' shrugged sheepishly.

"Uh, well, M'ma only has the Food Network on in the mornings when she's waiting for her soaps to come on. And that's all they show then." The duck's expression changed to worry. "That's okay, right? I mean, I guess I could take out a cookbook sometime and try something else."

Scrooge put up his hand, stopping the lad there as he waited to finish chewing.

" _Mm_ , no. I'm not complaining, laddie. Actually, I'm a wee bit surprised you can make anything at all. That trailer of yer's hardly has room for anything,  _let alone a kitchen_."

"Pshaw!" Fenton began cutting into his own food now. "A true cook needs no kitchen! Or pots and pans, for that matter." He was mostly jesting; their trailer did have a kitchen, although it was far too small to be considered such.

"Ach!" Magica's frustration was quickly returning. "I am not caring about any of this!" She slammed her fists against the tabletop, on either side of the ball, causing it to shift in its holder.

Back in the crystal ball, it had grown quiet between the two. Magica decided she would continue to watch a few moments longer before giving up on anything interesting happening.

"Gee, kinda quiet without the kids around, ain't it?" Fenton spoke up, breaking the quiet.

"Aye, don't get used to it. They should be home any minute now."

"Oh, good! I was afraid I made too much food."

Magica groaned. When would it end? Scrooge may live a pampered life, but a pampered life was a boring life, it seemed. It was right when she was about to cut off her connection that the witch spotted movement in the scene. Scrooge had just set down his knife and was about to take another bite of steak, when he was startled by his company placing a hand on top of his. Magica raised a brow at this, but stayed silent as Fenton began talking once more.

"Uh, thanks again for letting me come over. I know you don't like making our dates a big deal and all, but they really do mean a lot to me. More than a lot- the world even! And the fact it's even happening at all…" The duck paused, looking down shyly at their hands touching. "Gee, I dunno. You just make me feel like the luckiest guy around."

The two continued to talk sweetly, but Magica heard none of it.

"Date? Scrooge McDuck is dating another man? The hired help, no less! Oh, this is being perfect!" The old witch grabbed Poe and spun him around in her glee, cackling all the while.

"Yeah, so?" Poe enquired, "How's that gonna get you that dime?"

Magica stopped, and dropped the bird, quickly losing interest in him as her mind began to whirl.

"Hmmm... I think I am having an idea." And said idea must have been a nasty one, the malicious smile stretching across her bill and the mischievous glint in her eye said that much. Her crow familiar just watched as she danced around the room, grabbing things as she stuffed them into a travel bag she had lying around for such an occasion. Once she was finished, she ran towards the door.

"Be watching the shop, Poe. This sorceress has an overnight date with destiny!"

* * *

Much of the sweet talking had ended the moment Mrs. Beakley returned home with the children, as the allure of the intoxicating aroma of food led Webby and the boys straight to the dining room. Neither Fenton or the kids' uncle minded too much, as they instead listened to them talk about the back to school shopping they did with their nanny. Uncle Scrooge cringed some as they mentioned all the clothes and school supplies that were bought, despite the fact he knew it was needed spending. The old mallard took another bite of his food as he wondered if there was any way to return the outfits and just give the youngins some of his hand-me-downs.

After dinner was the cool down time before bed. The time of the evening where the family all went into the living room to enjoy the fire and tell stories. Usually it would be Scrooge sitting in his big chair by the fireplace as he took out one of his many scrapbooks filled with a lifetime of memories, and he would captivate his young audience with his adventures. Fenton had to admit he had never been a part of something quite like that before, the only time he had ever seen such a thing happen were in the movies his mother watched and in the miscellaneous ' _Better Than Your Homes and Gardens'_  magazines he would read in the checkout aisle in grocery stores.

It sent a warm feeling through the accountant when he was invited to join them. Scrooge had settled in his chair, Fenton on the floor in front of the chair, and the boys sitting at the foot oF the chair. The fire felt nice and warm that night.

Not only did Fenton get to join in, but as it turned out, it fell upon him to be the storyteller for the evening. Fenton didn't mind one bit... although he first faltered at the offer; Fenton Crackshell's life had been nothing to tell stories about up until now. Scrooge made it clear with a glare and some well disguised words that Fenton's initial idea of telling the boys about their first date wasn't a good idea.

So they had settled for a fictional story instead- one borrowed from Mrs. Beakley. Fenton promised the boys he would skip over the "mushy parts". Even so, the three of them seemed less than thrilled to be hearing a story from Mrs. Beakley's bookcase. And yet, four chapters in, and they were hanging on every word.

"Was it the butler, then?" Huey asked.

"No way! It was obviously the daughter, Millie!" Louie challenged.

"I still think that mail man seemed  _awfully suspicious_." Dewey added.

Fenton laughed, waving them off.

:"I guess you'll just have to wait n' see, huh?" A pause, before he added. "Besides, it was obviously the wife, anyhow. She only married the ol' sap for his money!"

Scrooge, who had been listening to the four argue with mild amusement, inwardly cringed at that- his mind automatically linking it to his experience with one Millionara Vanderbucks. The old mallard glared.

"Would you lot just get on with it? No point arguing over a moot point that can easily be solved by gettin' t'the end of the story."

And so they did. The tale of murder and crime continued on, as the main character- a hardened detective- was suspicious of everyone at every turn. Things started to get steamy somewhere in the middle, as the daughter Millie was doing her best to seduce the hero. Fenton Crackshell had chuckled sheepishly, skipping the rest of that chapter- vaguely wondering about Mrs. Beakley's taste in literature.

Finally they got to the great reveal, and Fenton and the boys all gasped.

"You mean he was alive all along?!"

"Yup!" Fenton answered. "It says so, right here, in black and slightly off-white! Turns out he was just out fishin' this entire time.  _Huh._ "

"Wow, talk about a plot twist! Who knew Mrs. Beakley had such interesting books." Louie said.

"I'll say, what an ending! It's too bad Uncle Scrooge missed it." Dewey added, smirking and pointing to the chair, where Scrooge sat slumped and slumbering. Fenton smiled, and chuckled quietly, his heart fluttering in his chest a little at the sight of the snoozing duck.

"I think it's about time you boys did some snoozing of your own." Mrs. Beakley commented from the doorway. The boys all groaned.

"Awww, but I'm not sleepy one bit!"

"How could we be, after a story like that..."

"Can't we stay up just a little bit longer? Pleeaase?"

Fenton climbed to his feet, and straightened his shirt. It was pretty late, and the boys did have a set bedtime, but he was enjoying himself just as much, if not more, than they were.

"Well... I could always tell you guys about the time M'ma and me went shopping for a brand-new toaster with the extra money I got from a Christmas bonus one year..."

The boys exchanged looks, before jumping up, and dashing toward the stairs.

"Uh! Actually, I  _am_  pretty tired."

"Yup, it's past our bedtime, I think!"

"Night, Fenton!"

The middle aged mallard merely watched them run out of the room, both confused and slightly hurt from their sudden change in mind. Oh well, Fenton supposed that was just how children were- little balls of uncertainty. No reason to go and get all upset. However, Crackshell felt it strange when the nanny at the door chuckled, throwing the duck a wink as if some secret message was being sent, before turning to follow the children.

Fenton's thoughts on that matter were quick to go away as he caught the sight of the green cushioned chair- suddenly remembering he wasn't alone in the room. Fenton smiled as he turned towards the old mallard snoozing, a tranquil expression on his paramore's face. It was definitely a huge contrast to the normally peeved off look he usually gave people. The duck sighed, wishing he could just watch his angel sleep forever- his brain completely brushing off and overlooking why that would be unsettling for many reasons.

However, it wasn't too long before Fenton realized there was a problem. He couldn't just leave the guy there, could he? Sleeping like that could hardly be good for his back. But waking Scrooge also seemed like such a shame- if McDuck had fallen asleep in the first place it must have meant he needed to catch up on his z's.

"That's quite the pickle ya got there for yourself, Crackshell." Fenton mumbled to himself, tapping his bill as he tried to come up with a solution to the problem. " _Now what t'do, what t'do…_ "

Moments later, Fenton was struggling up the stairs, a slumbering Scrooge in his arms. This guy was a lot heavier than he remembered. Not that he minded! At the landing, he passed Duckworth- who raised a brow, opened his mouth to say something, then closed it and cleared his throat, instead. Fenton flashed him a sheepish grin.

"Carry on." the butler said, passing them to head down the stairs.

Grasping the bedroom door handle proved to be a task and a half, but he managed; without even waking Scrooge up in the process! The door swung open with a well placed hip bump, and he carried the exhausted mallard to the bed. While it was a struggle not to just drop his boyfriend onto the bed, and boy did his arms want to give up, Fenton had managed to gently place McDuck onto the bed- hardly disturbing him at all.

The accountant looked down at the world's richest duck as it dawned on him that it was really improper for Scrooge to be going to bed in his clothes and spats- however, as much as he would have felt better changing him into his comfy nightgown, the thought of accidentally waking McDuck in the process would have been going against his main adjective of keeping him asleep. Alas, poor Scroogey, he would just have to suffer with the indecency!

Fenton pulled back the fuchsia sheets, tucking the sleeping old duck in. Once he was sure they were nice and comfortable, he sighed dreamily at his work. Seeing Scrooge in such a sireen manner felt so intimate, so private. And there he was, with the privilege of being able to see the duck as anything other than a solid force of determination. Crackshell bent over and brushed away some of the feathers on his paramore's head, before gently placing a quick kiss.

" _Thank you, Scroogey_ ,' he whispered- a part of him hoping his words followed his love into his dreams. " _This date was perfect._ '

Scrooge McDuck frowned in his sleep, turning on his side away from Crackshell. Fenton covered his mouth- oops, guess that was his cue to leave. Tip-toeing across the room and out the door, the accountant gave one final look at the slumbering mass on the bed.

" _Sweet dreams._ "

* * *

Meanwhile and far away- very far away, in fact, in South Africa- Flintheart Glomgold sat in his living room, reading the paper with a dour look on his face and a sour taste in his mouth.

"Scrooge McDuck may have just landed the deal of the century." Glomgold read aloud, in a sneering, sarcastic tone. The paper told of McDuck's recent adventure to Featherbrain Island, where he had made a permanent deal with the animal caretaker. She would allow the penny pincher to haul away what she deemed as 'unusable materials' for practically nothing. What seemed like a poorly made exchange was turned on its head when it was known that said material were her literal tons of gold feathers and golden eggs from her beautiful and rare golden geese Proving the old adage: 'one man's trash is another man's treasure'.

Flintheart mumbled a few choice words under his breath as he turned the page sharply, nearly tearing it in the that on the front page was the last thing he needed after the day he had. And what lay on the following page, he needed even less.

"What?!" He roared, suddenly enraged, leaping from his chair, and promptly tearing the newspaper to shreds. Learning that the infamous John D. Rockerduck had recently kicked him into third on the charts for richest duck in the world had been the bitter icing on the rotten cake that was his day.

Glomgold continued his fuming as he paced around the room.

"This just hasn't been my week! First one of my big oil wells dries up, then one of my potential mergers ended up selling overseas, and now Rockerduck and that  _no-account McDuck_  are swooping in on my misfortune!  **I'm**  the one that's supposed to rub salt in  **THEIR**  wounds, not the other way around!"

The South African duck had paced his way to the other side of the room where his large fireplace crackled- making his animal trophies in the den look almost demonic. Glomgold glared at the lion-head on the wall that was mid-snarl, as he continued to think.

"What I need is something to turn this whole thing around. Something to knock down my competition a few pegs while simultaneously giving  **me**  the advantage…  _But what_?"

"What, indeed!"

The familiar, yet unexpected voice caused Glomgold to gasp and spin around. He glowered at the sorceress standing in the middle of the room, smirking deviously at him.

"Magica de Spell?! How did you-"

"Please, dahlink; I am sorceress, getting into your house is no problem,  _trust me_." She began walking toward him, and he may have backed up, had it not been for the lit fireplace being directly behind him. "What you should be asking,  _is_   _why_?"

Admittedly, Magica wasn't the last person he wanted to see that moment. As far as unexpected visitors went, he could have done far worse. He crossed his arms, frowned, and raised a brow.

"I was getting to that! What do  **you**  want? I'm in no mood for your magic tricks."

The witch wagged her finger, as she made her way closer to the old duck. She paused in front of him, as she lifted the bag she had been carrying in her other hand- previously gone unnoticed by the mad mallard- taking out a crystal ball from inside. She chuckled deviously as she caressed the sphere.

"I am not even needing my crystal ball to know you are having bad day. A bad case of misfortune,  _tsk tsk_ \- not boding well for you." Glomgold had just opened his bill to speak, when he was quickly silenced by Magica carrying on. " Yet, I come bearing good news! What are you saying if Magica is telling you that she knows that Scrooge McDuck is hiding a secret- at this very moment- that could be taking down his whole capital empire?"

The old duck stepped forward, placing a hand on top of the sorceress' magic orb- bringing his face closer as a dark smirk crossed his bill. What else was there to say but:

" _I'm all ears._ "


	2. Bonds

* * *

 

9 A.M. Daylight. Just another average day patrolling the streets of Duckburg for a more than average duck. Gizmoduck was ever vigilant as he went about his duties; always having an ear out for trouble, even as he did the more mundane of activities- like helping old ladies cross the street, and getting poor stuck kittens out of trees. No job was too big or too small for the robotic wonder of justice.

Gizmoduck had just finished helping the local grocer stock his assortments of citrus, when he spotted the likes of McDuck's nephews turning a corner on the other end of the road. They were all laughs and giggles as they raced each other on their bikes- young Louie in the lead. Aww, youth. To be young and enjoy one's summers again. Fenton could recall the thrill he used to get waking up early every summer morning so he could go outside and play another game of kick the can with his old trailer park chums. Or how they would be lucky if a fire hydrant burst open and they would have a way to cool down from the summer heat- running around in circles as the water gushed down on them.

His nostalgia was cut short, however, just as the kids were in the middle of crossing the street- being good Junior Woodchucks and checking both ways before crossing- when Gizmoduck nearly jumped out of his suit from fright when a car of reckless teenagers speed around the corner.

And aimed right for Huey, Duey, and Louie.

"Sweet mother of justice!" Gizmoduck yelped, taking off so quickly his tire left a skid mark. Cars and buildings whizzed by as he made a beeline after the speeding car, giving it his all to beat the clock. Once in range, instinct taking over any form of coherent thought, he aimed and shot a grappling hook from the suit's right arm. It hit home, hooking onto the car's back bumper and holding tight.

"Gotcha!"

Immediately, Gizmoduck was yanked, quite forcefully, down the road behind the vehicle. It took him a few moments to regain his traction and put on the brakes. His tire squealed and smoked, Fenton's heart was thumping a mile a minute inside his robotic suit.

He didn't start to breathe again until he heard the car's tires squealing, as well. Luckily, his efforts had slowed the car down enough to give the driver time enough to see the kids in the road and react- slamming on his own brakes.

"Phew!"

Gizmoduck slumped and relaxed some, but not for long. He made haste to retrieve his grappling hook, and then sped around the front of the car to give its occupants an angry glare, ready and willing to deliver a stern talking to (and maybe a ticket and fine or twelve).

By this time, the kids had made it safely to the other side of the street, but now they dropped their bikes where they stood, and ran back out into the street and crowd around the hero (and friend!). Huey, Duey, and Louie's voices mixed into a sea of sound to the point Gizmoduck couldn't tell who said what or which.

"Wowwie wow!"

"That was so cool!"

"Can you do another neat trick?!"

Gizmoduck, spinning in circles as he tried to hear them equally- nearly toppled over from the sudden case of vertigo. Wobbling, and holding his helmet to help his head stop spinning, the middle aged duck addressed the children.

"N-now now, Gizmobuddies, not all at once! I can only take so much of a head trip." The hero shook his head, clearing his wooziness, before clearing his throat. "Ahem, that's better. Are you all okay? Nobody hurt? In need of first aid? Booboos that need healing kisses?"

While the duck had been very serious about the last offer, the children giggled as they assumed he was joking with them.

"Aww, c'mon Gizmoduck," Duey said inbetween his mirth, " no need for that mushy kid stuff with us. We're fine!"

Gizmoduck smiled sheepishly, realizing how silly and strange it would have been to have their buddy- and not super close member of the family: Fenton Crackshell- give them an affectionate smooch. Right, he was their hero and nothing more.

"... Er, right then. If that's the case, please escort yourselves out of the road- this is no place for children to lolligag or socialize! _Even if they are members of the fan club._  " He started to roll with them some, before stopping and throwing another stern look over his shoulder- the teenagers in the car gulping

"I'll be with you boys in a moment; first I have to have a word about the safeties of driving with our chums here."

The idea of waiting wasn't a very favorable one, especially not for three little boys. But they did as they were told, returning to their bikes and murmuring to each other about what had just happened, while Gizmoduck put the fear of justice into the hearts of the speeding car's passengers.

When he was through, they watched him roll out of the way, and the car take off- slowly and obediently. Satisfied, and not wishing to hold traffic up any more than he already had, he waved to the rest of the passing cars, before joining the kids on the sidewalk.

"Sorry about the wait, boys! I might have gotten a tiny bit carried away with my safety speech back there."

"Aw, it's fine. We don't mind!" smiled Huey.

"It's not like we have anything better to do." replied Louie.

Gizmoduck frowned, wondering if he was being sarcastic or not, when Duey answered that question with his addition to the conversation.

"Yeah, I wish our lives were as cool and exciting as yours is!"

This surprised Gizmoduck, as he knew otherwise.

"Oh? I could have sworn hearing something about you three boys going on a ton of exciting adventures with your Uncle Scrooge!"

"Not lately..." Louie replied, forlornly. "We've been so bored!"

The heroic wonder contemplated over this, as frowns began to form on the rest of the children's bills. Oh no, he was not having that. There was only one thing he could possibly do in a situation such as this.

"Then say no more, Louie. How would my favorite group of Gizmobuddies like to help me patrol? I can't promise anything  _too_ exciting," he said with a pause of concern, " sometimes us heroes just have our slow crime free days. It's what we strive for, after all. BUT! What do ya say. care to be deputized?"

As if the triplets needed to be asked twice. And so, to make it special for the three he made them salute as he 'swore them in' as an honorary member of team Gizmoduck. The hero momentarily considered calling them 'Justice Ducks'; but figured it might ruffle some feathers, scales and gills for doing so. No matter, just being a Gizmobuddy was enough for Huey, Duey, and Louie.

Impromptu ceremony over with, the children got on their bikes as they, in single file, followed Gizmoduck down the street and onto the next stop on his route.

* * *

While their adventure as temporary cops wasn't exciting, it was definitely tiring. Gizmoduck led them all through the city, and boy were their pedalling legs sore! But, at the moment, none of them seemed to mind. Their disappointment over such an uneventful day didn't matter so much when they were sitting on a bench and waiting for Gizmoduck to return with ice cream.

"Here you are! Chocolate chip mint for Huey, chocolate vanilla swirl for Duey, and strawberry chunk for Louie!"

The kids swiped the cones, happily, and began to chow down.

"Wow! A cone for each of us?" Huey asked in surprised delight. It was far more than what they were used to!

"Nothing's too good for my Gizmobuddies! Don't eat that too fast, now; you'll freeze your brains."

The robopal sat on the bench on the other side of the table- as best he could, anyhow. When he tired of the sound of slurping, he decided to make smalltalk.

"Sooo uh... anything new and exciting in your lives?" he tried. Huey and Louie shook their heads, but Duey paused his slurping and smirked and cast a sly glance at Louie.

"Oh, Louie has some exciting news. Lora Pigstien from class has a huge crush on 'im!"

"What! Ew, nuh-uh! She does not!" Louie retorted, as his brothers laughed at his expense.

"Oh, hey now!" Gizmoduck quickly interjected, noting how embarrassed the teased sibling was getting. "Young love is nothing to laugh about!" He replied, defiantly.

The boys exchanged glances.

"What about old love?" Duey asked. Huey and Louie burst into giggles.

Gizmoduck blinked slowly behind his visor, his confusion gone unnoticed by the children. Scratching under his helmet- it jiggling a bit in place- the middle aged duck voiced his puzzlement.

"Uh,  _say again_?"

The boys' mirth turned serious, as the lads threw each other a glance- a silent conversation happen right before Gizmoduck's eyes. It didn't take long for the kids to come to an agreement, the three of them nodding in unison, before they leaned onto the table, covering their mouths as they whispered to the hero across from them.

"Well," Huey began, " We're not sure if we're supposed to tell anybody."

"But, "Duey quickly interjected, " you're a friend of the family and stuff, so it  _might_  be alright and not get us in any trouble."

"Yeah, but only if you promise to keep it a secret!" Louie finished, the three glowering as they waited for Gizmoduck's response- and reminding the mallard inside the suit of the many glares he had received from their great uncle.

He chuckled fondly.

"You kidding me? Part of my job is discretion. But, yes- I can do you boys one better; would a  _pinky_  promise satisfy?"

He watched as they grouped together in a huddle, whispered to one another, nodded in unison, and turned back to him, three pinky fingers extended in his direction. He gladly extended his own hand out to comply- then frowned as he realized his gizmohands didn't actually have pinkies.

"Oh, uhhh..." he fumbled, embarrassed. The boys frowned back, at a loss as to what to do in this particular situation.

"Let's see here, I'm sure this thing has something we can- ah!"

Gizmoduck pressed a button on his chest, and out popped a handy mechanical hand, with which he used to seal the pinkie promise pact.

"Alright, now that that's out of the way..." the robo hero leaned over the table and whispered. "What's this big secret all about?"

The boys leaned in, themselves.

"Well," began Louie, "Uncle Scrooge is... yeck...  _dating._ "

All three made a yuck face, and suddenly Fenton was horrified, heartbroken, and seriously freaking out! Did they not like him? Did they find him too clingy? Annoying? Gross? Was their school work suffering because of it? It took him a while to realize he had been leaning over the table in silence with his bill open for a little bit too long. They were looking at him funny, and Duey was waving a hand in front of his visor.

"Hello, Earth to Gizmoduck? You okay?"

"What? Er, yes! Just a bit surprised by the news, I suppose."

"Yeah," Huey sighed, " So were we. We thought Uncle Scrooge was over all that mushy stuff. Then Fenton came around and started acting all weird-"

"Well, weirder than usual anyhow." Duey snickered some as he put in his two cents. His brothers glared at him before Huey continued.

""And now they're going on dates, and hanging out more, and stuff!"

The robotic wonder of justice, who had been listening quietly as Fenton did everything in his power to hold back his hurt feelings, found his voice cracking as he tried to continue pretending he knew nothing of the situation.

"Ah, I…  _I see._ " He cleared his throat, sounding more like his heroic persona. " Well, that's good news, right? I thought you guys liked that Fenton fellow. Has he did anything to upset you guys? The few times  _I've_  met him he seemed nice."

The children gasped in surprise, as if Gizmoduck had just told them something horribly offensive.

"What, of course we like him!"

"Yeah, Fenton's great!  _Weird_ , but great!"

"He's even been spending a whole bunch of time hanging out with us lately. Boy, don't think we coulda got our last Junior Woodchuck's badge without 'im!"

The middle aged duck found himself smiling, his worry melting from the warm fuzzy feelings that overcame him from the triplet's words. Aww, they did care after all! However, the fondness evaporated just as quickly as bewilderment struck Gizmoduck just as hard.

" _Wait_ , if you like him… then what seems to be the problem?"

The children were back to slurping on the ice creams, which had already begun to melt in the heat. Duey shrugged.

"It's just weird.  _Different_  and weird."

"We're not saying we're afraid of change..." added Louie.

"We just don't like it very much." finished Huey.

Gizmoduck chuckled, and waved off the notion with his hand.

"Nonsense! Change can be a good thing! Why, take this ice cream stand, for instance; just a few short months ago, it was nothing more than an empty lot! Now you sit here, enjoying nice ice creams. Not a bad change, is it?"

The boys shrugged, obviously more interested in finishing their treats before they melted into their laps. Okay, maybe that example was too unrelated.

"Er, besides! It could be nice having a second father figure around, huh? It might take some getting used to, but..."

"Like we said, it's been pretty nice havin' Fenton around. He'll actually play with us!" replied Louie.

"Yeah…" Duey agreed before making another face. "I just wish he and Uncle Scrooge would stop actin' all mushy when we're around."

Fenton felt himself blush under his helmet.

" _Eh heh heh_. I'll  _uh_ , pass on that little tidbit of information to Fenton, next time I see 'im. In the meantime, you boys finish up those cones, and we can get back to patrolling! Whaddya say, Gizmobuddies?"

"Aye aye, Gizmoduck!" the kids cried, saluting with their free hands.

The warm fuzzies came back to the middle aged duck again, it taking every resolve not to just swoop them all up in hugs. One for each of triplet. However, the hero supposed that wasn't something their adult friend- the one they idolized- was supposed to do. That was more of a family thing. And yet..

He truly did love those boys.

* * *

Next day, Scrooge McDuck's money-bin. Fenton Crackshell had been busy half the morning going through his boss' ledgers- going over the net worth of the different businesses and calculating the expenses and profits. The duck smiled as he clutched the green books to his chest as he walked into McDuck's office. Fenton liked to prefer thinking of himself as humble- even if others disagreed at times- but even his own self esteem couldn't deny the fact the mallard had a way with numbers. A natural savant, if you would… If Fenton knew what the word meant, anyhow.

"Ah, Fenton," Scrooge said, looking up from shining some of his coins as his accountant turned paramore strolled into his office. "Finish already?"

"You betcha!" Fenton beamed. "Every expense and profit calculated and accounted for. Thrice over, even!"

By then he had made it to Scrooge's desk, where he laid the stack of books. Scrooge picked them up and leafed through them, mostly for show; he trusted Fenton to not mess up when it came to these things. He tended to make up for it in just about everything else he did in life.

When he saw his accountant turn to leave from the corner of his eye, he looked back up and cleared his throat.

"So. Three little birdies told me they had a little run in with Gizmoduck yesterday." Scrooge said, a hint of a smile on his bill. Fenton stopped, and turned back around.

"Oh, yeah? A good run in, I hope!" Fenton teased. Scrooge set down the ledger, and nodded.

"Aye, I'd say so; they couldn't stop talking about it! Those boys really look up to you. Er, both of you, I suppose."

The middle aged mallard beamed proudly.

"Well, gee, and I'm just crazy about 'em too! I mean, I'm sure you'll always be their favorite- no replacing here! But…" Fenton paused, his voice growing soft as he twiddled his fingers. " I just figured it didn't hurt to have all the fatherly-type figures they could get. I imagine it's hard not having their own pa around- I know it was for me at their age."

Scrooge was surprised into silence from the other's admission. It's true he had noticed Fenton spending more time with the children… But he had thought, supposedly rather selfishly, that it had all been to please the old billionaire. Scrooge had never really put too much thought into Fenton's upbringing; while he had obviously noticed the lack of a father, he had assumed that maybe the lad had lost his a few years before knowing him- around the same age the old mallard's own mother had passed away,now that McDuck thought about it.

But for Fenton not to have a father, even as a wee little one… tread lightly, Scrooge told himself. This was tender territory.

"Well... you make a fine father, Fenton." was what he settled on, holding eye contact with the accountant briefly as he said it.

He didn't need to be looking at the lad to hear him whimper. Oh boy, don't let him cry, Scrooge thought. The old mallard quickly grabbed the partial newspaper on his desk, and busied himself with pretending to read it. He cringed when there was a sniffle.

"Gee, Scroogey, I... thanks a bunch! It means a lot to hear you say that..." Fenton finished by blowing his nose loudly on an old handkerchief he pulled from his vest pocket.

"...Hey, Scroogey?" Fenton asked, after a short pause. His tone had Scrooge lowering the paper he wasn't reading to look at him.

"Go on."

"It's uh. It's my lunch break! I don't suppose you'd be up for joining me, would ya?"

Scrooge McDuck looked at the clock on the wall to the left of him- it, indeed, confirming it was 10:30. Time for lunch. The old duck pondered on this, before throwing a glance back towards the pleading accountant.

" _Hmm_ , I suppose there's no harm in it." And maybe the thought actually sounded appealing, in its own way. " Alright then- I'll go. But-"

" _Ah ah_ , no need to say it." Fenton teased, as Scrooge was getting up from his seat- unread newspaper already forgotten. "Don't worry, it'll be  _my_  treat! I've been wantin' to take ya to this nice lil' cafe I found not too far from here, anyhow."

So the two went off, no doubt in their mind that they would just have a quiet little luncheon. However, once the door was slammed shut- perhaps a little too violently by the eager member of the couple- the unfolded newspaper on the billionaire's desk slid to the floor, folding itself in the process. The headline on the front page, in ominous bold, declaring to the world:

**SCROOGE MCDUCK: The Secret Gay Life of Duckburg**


	3. Costs

* * *

 

The cafe was exactly what Fenton had said it was. It was one of those family runned small businesses- the place ran by an elderly couple. As they had ordered lunch the old pig woman had been very sweet and kind, talking all about how it had always been her dream to run a restaurant. Scrooge hadn't been much for her prattling, but even he had to admit her enthusiasm was contagious- the billionaire had smiled into his cup of coffee as she and the younger mallard talked on. Finally she had left them in peace, as she went to give her husband their orders.

Fenton Crackshell sighed contently.

"See, I told ya this place was nice! Nice people, nice food- and look, we're the only ones here. Quiet, just like I promised ya, Scroogey!"

Scrooge thought about mentioning how his office was just as quiet, but this was the kind of atmosphere that took the grump right out of the duck. There was a sleepy feel to the place; the kind of relaxed sleepiness that could only normally be found at home in front of your fireplace, mother's cookies baking in the oven.

Scrooge McDuck hadn't felt this relaxed in a very long time.

"It's... nice. I especially admire their cheap prices." Scrooge replied, after a bit. Fenton waggled a finger at him from across the table.

"Hey, now! I thought I told you no peeking at the prices!" he teased. Scrooge was still smiling, and it set Fenton's heart ablaze to see it.

"The day I order something without looking at the cost, will be the day they cart me off to the looney bin."

"Even if you're not paying for it?" The younger duck asked, leaning onto the table and resting his chin on his fingers.

Scrooge scoffed at this, but it was evident that he too was playing into his role of grumpy old man.

"As if I'm goin' t'let you burn through your pockets like last time."

"Aww, Scroogey, you DO care!"

"Mmm,  _maybe_ ," McDuck had to hide his smirk behind his cup, before he could continued his cynical act. "Or maybe I just don't like being stranded in the middle of the city without a ride back home."

Fenton had begun to grow really well at reading his paramore across from him, and luckily could tell that the old duck's comments about their first date had been in jest… Well, hopefully. He chose to take it that way anyway as he laughed, shrugging his shoulders as if to say 'whoops'. Their conversation was momentarily cut short as the owner of the cafe returned with their lunch. Sandwiches and sides were placed onto the table. Fenton couldn't help but sneak a fry off of his own plate even as the woman was still talking.

"I hope everything's okay for ya, huns." She said, as she was refilling Scrooge's cup of coffee. " Just holler 'Mrs. Dee' if there's anything else I can getcha."

The woman was thanked, and she left them to their meal.

They ate in near silence, and Scrooge was waiting for Fenton to bring up the woman's name. He never did. Did Fenton ever think of his old flame these days? If he didn't, Scrooge thought he might stand to gain a few pointers on how. In the end, he decided it would only spoil the moment.

The place did serve pretty good food; Scrooge's fish sandwich, with a bowl of boiled cabbage on the side, and Fenton's cheese burger with fries, went down pretty smoothly. His meal gone, Scrooge stretched and stifled a yawn; his sleepy mood only enhanced by his full stomach. He slumped lazily in his seat as he waited for his, ahem,  _date_ , to finish with his. He sighed...

Feeling relaxed was one thing, but was he becoming complacent? It had been a while since he had been on an adventure, and while it was nice to feel this relaxed for a change, it seemed to only fuel his need for action and excitement. Scrooge glanced out the window, at the slowly darkening sky. Perhaps an omen of the excitement he had hoped for, and would soon live to regret.

Fenton had finished his meal and went up to the counter to pay, Mrs. Dee and her husband had been at the cash register chatting casually over one thing or another. Scrooge watched them all exchange conversation from the corner of his eye, noting when Mrs. Dee had praised Fenton for taking out his grandfather for a meal. And that 'Ya'll are welcomed back any ol' time.' The accountant merely waved this off, as he agreed to return sometime soon. Scrooge McDuck sat back up in his seat, as Fenton returned to the table.

"Done socializing, are ya?"

"Yup! Mr. and Mrs. Dee sure do know how to keep a conversation going." Fenton quickly picked up his cup of soda on the table, gulping down the last bit before exhaling contently. He smiled at his boss as he set the glass back down.

"Are you ready to head back now?"

"Aye, I think we should. I have paperwork that needs my scrawl on it." The old mallard hopped out of his seat, already heading towards the door. "Besides, you have work to do."

"Work? But I finished it all this-  _ooooh_ , not  _me_  me. You mean  _you-know-who_. Gotcha."

Scrooge rolled his eyes, his hand placed on the door as he was ready to open it.

"I'm glad you're keeping up, laddie.  _I don't know what I'd do otherwise._ "

The succession of bright flashes, and the quickly rising rumble they were greeted with upon opening the door and stepping out, had initially been assumed for a sudden lightning storm. But soon the rumble was recognized as voices- hundreds of questions at once, the flashing of cameras blinding them both. They were reporters, and they had the two surrounded.

They shielded their eyes from the lights, Scrooge slapping away microphones and mini tape recorders that had been shoved into his face. Fenton, himself, was more than a little intimidated; usually when he was surrounded by this many cameras and eager reporters, he had the guise of Gizmoduck to hide behind. Or inside, as it were.

"What is all this! Out of my way! I don't have time for-  _move it_!" Swinging his cane at the sea of nosey interlopers was getting the two through, albeit at a rather slow pace. Progress halted completely when Scrooge caught the words "boyfriend", "gay", and "profits" from the mad jumble of voices.

"I beg your pardon!?" Scrooge yelled, clearly shocked. This only encouraged the crowd, as it quickly began closing in again, the level of chatter rising. If it hadn't been for Fenton grabbing the old mallard and bolting through the sea of people, Scrooge was sure it would have swallowed him up.

It didn't take long before they reached McDuck's waiting car- parked with Duckworth in the driver's seat. The dog man was jolted awake by the back doors yanked open violently, as the two ducks clambered inside. Scrooge yelled towards the front seat of the car where his butler sat.

"Get us out of here and to me bin, and QUICKLY!"

Duckworth did not question his orders, as he did just that; driving away as fast as the speed limit would allow. Scrooge and Fenton, however, were doing their best to catch their breath. The younger of the two was the first to speak up, as he looked out the back window- the crowd of reporters already out of sight.

"Gee, what in the world was THAT all about?!"

"I don't know, but I'm going to find out.' McDuck turned his focus back on his driver, as he barked out another order. "Duckworth, turn on the radio and get me the nearest news station!"

"Right away, sir." Duckworth did as he was told, and Scrooge leaned over the seat as he tuned it to the local news.

"That's right, Kay, sources say our very own Scrooge McDuck, widely known as the richest duck in the world, may be facing some serious accusations. Some very compelling evidence, including some very convincing photos, suggest that this wealthy mallard might be a homosexual."

"A what!" Scrooge nearly screamed. He flopped back into the seat. "Oh, no..."

Fenton scooted closer, placing a comforting hand on Scrooge's shoulder- which was promptly swatted away. Fenton recoiled like a kicked puppy. He could tell this wasn't going to end well, as the news report went on.

"Reports are coming in that this scandal has already affected profits for McDuck Industries, as more conservative groups like 'Mothers of Calisota' have already begun boycotting all McDuck products. No statements from the party in question have been made as of yet. However, we would like to hear from you, the listeners, as we are now taking your calls."

The billionaire, the heart of the scandalous remarks, had been sitting in silence (clutching at his chest in distress) ever since the smooth voice of the radio reporter had mentioned loss in profits. Sure, this wasn't the first time sales revenue had gone down because of that crazy organization of mothers with far too much freetime. However, Scrooge McDuck just knew they were only the first in a long line to come. This wasn't as simple a subject to brush under the rug- this was huge!

Scrooge was jolted out of his thoughts, as the first caller came through.

"Hello caller, you're on the air."

"Yeah, hi."

It was both Fenton and Scrooge who gasped as they recognized the voice. It was the younger of the two who cried out loud first.

"That's… that's my M'ma!"

The reporter carried on.

"Who are we speaking to, and what do you think of this whole mess?"

"Yeah, well," the woman began, it was clear that she was very annoyed at that moment. "My name is Iva Crackshell, and I have a bone to pick with you guys. What's the big deal reporting all this garbage anyway?"

"I don't follow, ma'am. Are you saying Scrooge McDuck is innocent?"

"'Innocent'?! I'm saying I don't care!" M'ma growled, yelling into the phone. "All day long you and your reporter chums have been talking about 'Scrooge McDuck dating thiiiis' and 'Scrooge McDuck dating thaaat'. It's bad enough I gotta hear my son yammering about his love life with the guy every day, and now you guys have t'go and interrupt my shows too?!"

There was a short pause over the radio, and Scrooge shot Fenton a meaningful glare. Fenton merely shrugged sheepishly.

"Mrs. Crackshell, are you confirming that Scrooge McDuck really is a homosexual?" the woman on the radio asked, excitement evident in her tone.

"A what? How should I know? He's dating my son, I know that much. There, is that it? Mystery solved! Now can you get back t-"

M'ma Crackshell's ranting was cut as the station cut the connection in lieu of more important matters.

"Well, there it is. We just received live confirmation that the news- originating from The Eggquistor's publishing building in Duckburg- is indeed true! Scrooge McDuck; billionaire, entrepreneur, homosexual."

The last word of that was said in a tone that conveyed shame and fear, much in the same way one might accuse a person of murder. And as much as Scrooge hated to admit it, the tone really did bring himself shame. He had never had an opinion on those sorts of people one way or another, it didn't matter to HIM what people did as long as people bought what he was selling.

And yet, to be associated with something that hurt his business… The old duck groaned, sinking into his cushioned seat in a way that no doubt was bad for his back. He used a hand to rub his eyes, a headache already beginning to form over the matter.

"Just… Just turn it off, would you? I don't think I have the strength to hear anymore."

Fenton felt his heart ache for his paramore as he felt guilty for being part of the reason he was now a miserable mess. The accountant cleared his throat, as he scooched closer- though making sure he was not close enough to accidentally touch the temperamental duck.

"There there, Scroogey. It'll be okay. You've been through worse than this. I'm sure everybody's just making this a bigger deal than it actually is. Why, I bet in a few days it'll blow over and it'll be something to laugh about!"

The words meant to calm only succeeded in enraging the old mallard even more, and Fenton actually flinched when Scrooge fixed him with a glare sharp enough to kill.

"Laugh?  _Laugh?!_  Losing profits over something this ridiculous, something that could have easily been avoided, is no laughing matter!"

Fenton ducked just in time to dodge the incoming cane that was swung at his head, and thankfully, Scrooge didn't try for a second time.

"Duckworth, stop this car now!"

The car screeched to a halt, the back door flew open, and Fenton was shoved out. The door slammed shut behind him, even as he was still trying to figure out what had just happened. Fenton sputtered in confusion, but was given an answer as McDuck rolled down his window.

"LOOK, I am going to go fix YOUR mess and see just what's really going on here." Scrooge was not deterred by the big sad eyes looking up at him, as he continued. "Meanwhile, I want  _Gizmoduck_  to go on duty and find the boys. I don't need the children getting swept into this nonsense and harassed by the paparazzi. GOT that?"

Understanding lit up in the middle aged duck's eyes, as it previously didn't dawn on him that those invasive reporters might go after Scrooge's nephews. Fenton lept off the ground, and air of seriousness overcoming him as his own sense of parental protection kicked in.

" _Right_ , I'm on it Scroogey!"

The angry old mallard didn't say anything else as he rolled up his window, the car taking off once more. Fenton Crackshell momentarily deflated some as he watched the one he loved distance himself in more ways than one.

* * *

The glass door of The Eggquisitor Publishing building swung open, and in stomped a very peeved Scrooge McDuck. The receptionist glanced up, uninterested, and then did a double take and stood up to greet him as he approached his desk. He didn't look pleased, and it was an easy guess as to why.

"I'm here to speak with whoever is in charge." he said, curtly.

The receptionist, Mr. Downfeather, shook his head, and sat back down.

"I'm sorry, sir, but he's currently meeting with some very important people. You'll have to make an appointment, and come back at a later..."

"Bah! I'll do it myself." Scrooge turned and continued his angry strut down the hall, the receptionist calling after him. He passed a few doors without a second glance. At the end of the hall stood a door with a glass window. There was a shade down across it from the inside, but the muffled voices coming from within told him he had found what he was looking for.

The old mallard didn't even think twice as he kicked open the door- using the surprise he no doubt caused to start barking orders.

"Alright," Scrooge cried, waving his cane, "I demand t'know who is responsible for writing this… this..  _this slander_  to the McDuck name!"

The pig editor in chief at the desk, his name plate telling the billionaire that he was a mister 'Ron Swineson', looked up in a panic- already beads of sweat pouring down his forehead. However, he was quickly forgotten as Scrooge's eyes landed on the other person in his office, who turned around in his chair as he greeted the old duck.

"Why, good afternoon  _Scroogey_."

" _Flintheart Glomgold?!_ " McDuck gasped in genuine surprise. His old time rival chuckled, rising from his seat as he put his arms behind his back as he took in the expression on the other duck's face- more than satisfied by it.

"Sorry, Scrooge, but you'll have to come back later. Me and ol' Ronny here are in the middle of  _important business matters._ "

"I bet you are," Scrooge said, his tone dripping with venom as the duck had already begun putting the pieces together." No doubt busy ruining my good name. I should have known only somebody as nasty and low handed as  _you_  would be involved in this affair!"

Glomgold laughed, and Scrooge hated him even more for it. The sound grated on his nerves and fuelled his already blazing anger.

"Involved? I'll do ya one better! This was all my handy work. It looks like I finally outdid you, Scrooge McDuck!"

Scrooge wasted no time in making it to the wooden desk, and slamming a fist on it so hard, the paperweight in the corner lifted off and tumbled to the floor. Ron leapt out of his seat, and zipped out the door... not wanting to be involved.

Scrooge continued talking as his fist clenched tightly.

"I demand you call off the press, now. You're publishing lies, slander, and you know it! This is even low for you, you dirty, rotten, no good-"

"Lies?" Glomgold mocked in shock hurt. "I hardly call these, lies!" there was a rattling as he reached down and into a pocket inside his black jacket. He pulled out a small yellow folder, and slid it across the desk toward Scrooge.

It took everything in Flintheart Glomgold's power not to burst out laughing once more from the look on McDuck's face as he opened the envelope. Inside were pictures of the billionaire in his home; intimate moments were depicted of his private life. Scenes of Scrooge and his young accountant engaging in dinners, quick brief kisses on the cheek that were given by Fenton whenever he felt especially affectionate, and even pictures of an encounter that happened a few evenings prior- when Fenton had brought over some old black and white movie for 'a movie date night'. McDuck gulped as it showed the two of them close, Crackshell's arm wrapped around his paramore as the smaller duck rested his head against him in the slightest.

"I… I," the old mallard sputtered, as he tried to find the words he needed. "How… How did you get your hands on these?!"

Glomgold scoffed.

"I hired a photographer, how else?" He sneered. " I knew you'd have some skeletons in your closet, McDuck,  _but I didn't expect to find you in there with them_."

Scrooge growled, throwing down the pictures onto the floor in rage.

"I've had ENOUGH of this. Just what is the meaning behind this cockamamy scheme of yours? What do you get from interfering in me personal life?!"

"What do I get? Ha!" Glomgold went around the desk, this time getting close towards his rival as he gloated. "You of all people should know that scandals can ruin a man.  _And_  his businesses. My plan is to sit back and watch as the people turn against you- one by one- as every day your empire comes crumbling down and you're too helpless to stop it."

The duck came closer, as he leaned into Scrooge's personal space- his breath felt on McDuck's face.

"And when you don't have anything…  **I'll have everything**. Face it, McDuck,  **you lose**."

For perhaps the first time in Scrooge McDuck's life, he had no retort, and the realization on his face was, to Glomgold, a delightful sight to behold. Scrooge made no attempt to stop him when his foe brushed passed him, casually strolling toward the door.

"See you in the papers, Scroogey." Glomgold cackled as he left, shutting the door behind him, leaving Scrooge alone in an empty office.

Alone to sort out the remains of his crumbling life.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to add a note here explaining something a bit. In no way do I believe Scrooge is gay. (In fact, I believe describing his sexuality has more complexity than that.) However... I do know the media has a habit of labeling things as either 'straight' or 'gay'-- to them there are no inbetweens. And I felt it was important to add that bit of reality to the story-- to further show Scrooge's frustrations.   
> \--  
> Snark


	4. Debt

* * *

 

"Hellwo, Webra Walters here. And today I am weporting the big scandal wegarding Duckburg's wery own Scwooge McDuck."

The dog woman frowned, walking as the cameraman followed her.

"As you may have alweady heard fwom earwier, we have new evwidence that Scwooge McDuck has been covworting awound with a mystewious new male wover." Webra stopped in her tracks as she held the microphone closer to her face, looking serious into the camera. "That's wight, viewers, Scwooge McDuck- wichest duck and well known phiwlanthwopist… is gay. And today we are hitting the stweets to hear what people like YOU have to say about this devwelopment."

The camera panned to an old fashioned vehicle idling next to a sidewalk. A plump woman sat in the driver's seat. The thin black mask covering her eyes did nothing to disguise from anyone living in Duckburg; Werbra approached Ma Beagle fearlessly. Ma Beagle watched the small news team, warily.

"Ma'am, would you mind sharwing your thoughts on the Scwooge McDuck scandal with our viewers at home?" Webra tipped the microphone in her direction, and an expression of amused relief settled across her face.

"Well sure! Scrooge McDuck, a homosexual this whole time, and right under our noses. Why, I feel so lied to! Robbed! Swindled!"

The camera shot up and zoomed out as an alarm sounded and a door slammed open, to reveal they were filming in front of the local bank. Three burglars, all with a striking resemblance to the woman sitting in the car, hoisted large bags over their shoulders. and bolted down the steps.

"It's a real shame." The camera jerked back and focused on the woman, who had resumed her thoughts on the matter, as if nothing was happening. The only indication that she noticed anything was amiss at all, was the fact she had to almost yell now to be heard over the alarm.

Ma Beagle shook her head sadly. "Scrooge McDuck, of all people, giving our city such a bad name."

"Yeah, that's our job!"

The camera jerked again, and then zoomed out , as the three burglars hopped into the car- bags of stolen cash and all- causing the car to shake. No sooner had they done so, the car's tires squealed and they took off down the street and out of sight.

The scene cut from there, as the camera showed another location altogether. In the shot is a very attractive duck woman- attired in a green wide shouldered suit and red skirt. Her sultry eyes looking off screen, as she crossed her legs and leaned back into her hair.

Webra Walter's voice could be heard, while she wasn't on screen, as she addressed the woman.

"Do you mind telling the viewers at home who you are, and how you know Scwooge McDuck?"

"Why, of course. My name is Millionara Vanderbucks, and I am the head of the Vanderbucks Corporation. I met Scrooge McDuck when he came to my office, trying to buy something or another at the time from me. From there, it wasn't soon before we became entangled romantically and engaged."

"So," Webra began slowly," you would say you knew McDuck quite intimately then. Does this whole affwair of his come as a surpwise for you?"

Vanderbucks scoffed.

"Not really. It explains why he left me at the altar."

"I see. Scwooge McDuck, confirmed homosexual, attempted to wed you. Do you think it was a cwever yet poorwy executed pwoy to get his hands on your fortune?"

Vanderbucks looked directly at the camera now, eyes wide, expression shocked mixed with something unreadable. This only lasted for a split second, before she cast her cold gaze off camera again, and folded her arms tightly across her chest.

"There's no doubt in my mind." she replied, coolly.

The camera turned back to Webra.

"Astonishing. Scwooge McDuck's chawachter grows dawker and dawker. Stay tuned; next we speak to the mother of Mr. McDuck's scandawous wover."

Next shot was that in a darken and small room, the only light given was from a glow off screen. In the frame was the reporter, sitting onto a very poorly cleaned couch, as a M'ma Crackshell sat next to her- slumped and eating a bowl of popcorn as if she was completely alone in her home.

Webra Walters cleared her throat.

"Mrs. Crackshell, is it twue you told Duckburg PubwicWadio that you were the mother of a Fenton Crackshell- accountant and secwet wover of Scwooge McDuck?"

The duck woman, still staring offscreen, answered dully inbetween bites.

"Uh-huh."

Webra blinked, having expected a little more than that. Still, she put back on her game face as she carried on.

"Er, yes. What's your son like? What do you think of your son's affwair and the allegations made against both him and McDuck?"

M'ma shrugged, still not bothering to face the camera.

"I 'unno. Fenton's happy, so I'm happy; it's a mom thing." she continued, in that same bored drawl. "I'm staying out of it. Let me know when they get married and I get to move into Mr. Big Buck's fancy mansion."

Webra jumped on that right away.

"Are you saying that there's marwiage in the pwanning?"

M'ma finally turned toward the woman on the couch, a look of sorrowful desperation on her face.

"Listen, Webra, I've been waiting all week to find out if Laura's long lost half brother is dead, or only pretending to be dead, and living well in Puerto Rico. If I miss this, I don't know what I'll do!"

For once, Webra was silent for a moment. She glanced at the television, and then back to the camera.

"Stay tuned for more."

The camera cut to black for a second. When the picture returned, they were still in the dark, messy trailer. Webra and Mrs. Crackshell sat on the same couch, and most were crying. M'ma handed Webra a box of tissues, which she accepted gratefully, before noticing the camera, and launching herself off of the couch to stop it.

The camera faded to black again.

Cut to outside once more- this time at a fancy eatery, out on the restaurant's deck. In the shot was a latticed metal table, an umbrella in its center, as it shaded the lavished duck sitting under it. The old duck sipped from his tea cup as the name 'John D. Rockerduck: entrepreneur' was highlighted to the right of the screen. The familiar voice of the reporter could be heard over the tweeting of birds.

" , you are a member of the billionaire's club in town, third wichest duck in the world, as well as owning many wivaling corpowations to McDuck Industwies. You would say you have gwown to know Scwooge McDuck pwetty well, wight? "

"Something of the sorts, yes."

"Then were you surpwised to hear about his curwent scandal?"

Rockerduck raised a brow at this, before putting down his cup onto the table- it giving off a tiny clunking noise in the process. The mallard readjusted his large circle-lensed glasses as he looked at the reporter off screen.

"Surprised? I was completely shocked! Why, I can  _hardly_  believe it!"

"Because you think they're false accusations?"

"Because no gay man would allow himself to DRESS like that! Have you seen what he wears? I swear he's been wearing that old drabby potato sack he calls 'clothes' since the 40's." The duck sighed, shaking his head sadly. "But I guess those sort of people come in all kinds, huh? One time my personal tailor told me he didn't know what Coquilles Saint-Jacques were. Honestly, almost fired him on the spot! They're supposed to  _know_  better!"

There was a pause as Webra tried to figure out to do with all of that information.

"I, um, yes. So… does that mean you think he's heterosexual after all?"

Rockerduck glared.

"Didn't you hear a word I just said? He's the biggest deviant I know! Dating a guy that works for you? Talk about bad business." He sneered, picking up his tea cup once more. "He was filth when he asked my father for help back when he was a penniless gold digger, and he's filth now!"

The camera panned as it followed Webra, until the rich duck was out of the shot. She turned toward the camera, expression calm, but her voice dripped with blame and accusation when she spoke.

"And there you have it. In the eyes of the evewy day citizens of Duckburg, Scwooge McDuck has been weduced to an untwustworthy, gowd digging deviant. This has been the Daiwy News with Webra Walters, tune in at seven to find out how this may be affecting Scwooge McDuck run businesses thwoughout the city."

* * *

Scrooge McDuck had dug himself out of many holes in his life- both figuratively and literally- but this pickle was proving to be a bit more difficult. His mind rapidly processed the situation over and over again, thinking up half-baked plans and immediately tossing them out the window, mumbling to himself all the while.

The boys had only ever seen this happen a few times- their Uncle Scrooge pacing so relentlessly that he was quite literally wearing a rut in the floor. They had been watching him, unnoticed from around the corner, for fifteen minutes now. They couldn't remember ever feeling so guilty in their lives, and it was eating at them terribly.

Fenton had been watching the scene unfold from the other side of the room- out of the pacing duck's way. The accountant was a remorse ridden nervous wreck. The phone was ringing nonstop, as if everybody in Duckburg was busy trying to call the mansion. The young duck bit at his fingertips, obsessively counting every time Scrooge would complete a full circle- just to distract himself from the constant ring.

1,367… 1,368… 1,369…

Finally Fenton couldn't take it anymore as he just needed to break the dreaded tension.

" So… phone just keeps ringing, huh? Who knew all it took to get this popular was to get your name in the papers?"

Scrooge turned and glared at him so coldly, he gulped. Scrooge's cane shot out, the end hooking around the back of his neck, and he was yanked forward so suddenly, he almost tripped over his own feet. He was brought face-to-face with the old mallard, and while normally this would not have been a position to complain about, the look he was getting froze his heart.

"Look here, Crackshell; you're the reason I'm in this mess to begin with. You and your stubborn refusal to take 'no' for an answer! So the last thing I wanna hear are your jokes!"

Fenton was released, and Scrooge went back to pacing.

"I need a plan... I need time to think!" Scrooge announced- to Fenton or to himself was unknown.

The old duck's ponderings would have to be put on hold, as the sound of tiny webbed feet running into the room was enough to disturb him from his thoughts.

"P-please don't yell anymore at Fenton, he didn't do it!" Louie was in tears, as his brothers were behind him sobbing just as violently. "It's OUR fault, Uncle Scrooge!"

Scrooge did a double take as he looked at the children with wide eyes, not exactly sure how to handle what was unfolding in front of him.

" _WHAT?_  What in the world are you three goin' on about?"

The triplets sniffled, wiping their noses on their sleeves. It was Duey, while distressed enough that he hiccupped and sputtered, as he tried to explain.

"How… how all the newspapers found out! W-we… We were t-talking with Gizmoduck," he paused as he sobbed some more inbetween breathes. "And… and… and…"

"Somebody must've heard us talking talking 'bout you guys!" Huey exclaimed loudly as he finished his brother's words.

Fenton swooped in with the speed and caring of a well-seasoned mother, wrapping the three ducklings in a comforting hug. While it did momentarily get their minds off of being sad, it was more from the surprise of the sudden intrusion of their space than actual comfort.

"Absolutely not! There's no way that's the case and how it is! I happen to know Gizmoduck  _personally_ , and he'd never be so careless as to let someone overhear you guys!"

Even if, Fenton realized, it was possible, there was no reason to go slinging blame now. Especially not at the poor kids!

"Besides! You three are super sneaky and careful, and ya got the 'Capture the Flag Six Times Champion' badges to prove it!"

The kids nodded slowly at this, and even began to smile a little.

"Yeah, we are pretty sneaky..."

"And careful! It couldn't have been us, I guess!"

"...Could it?"

Scrooge looked down at the four pairs of hurt, hopeful eyes he was faced with, and his heart ached. He fell to one knee, and held out his arms, and his nephews were released so they could go to him.

"No, of course not." Scrooge assured them, as they huddled against him like they hadn't done in a few years. "I don't believe you three are to blame for a second!"

Scrooge knew better than anybody that Glomgold played dirty... no, he got his information in ways a lot more underhanded and dastardly than simply overhearing a conversation. It was just figuring out HOW he did it that was currently eluding him.

The old drake pushed those thoughts aside for the moment, as he focused on his nephews instead. He cleared his throat as he let go of his boys, using his cane to get back up.

"I don't want ye lads worrying about a thing. It's not the first time Glomgold has tried to pull the wool over my eyes, and I doubt it'll be the last." Scrooge's reassuring smile turned serious. "I just gotta figure it all out, is all."

"Can we help out?" Louie asked hesitantly, as he pulled out a certain book he always kept on him for emergencies. "Maybe the Junior Woodchucks' guide has something that might help."

"It's a nice thought, Louie, but I doubt your old book can help me from losing me money."

"I don't know about that!" It was Fenton who this time chipped in with his two cents, as he pointed enthusiastically at the book in the child's hands. "I've been helping the boys get badges for two months now, and I swear it knows everything! Why, it even told me the perfect way to get M'ma to start helpin' out around the trailer! And how to finally tie my shoes!"

Scrooge glared.

"You don't WEAR shoes."

"But it taught me how t'do it when I wanna start!"

Scrooge took a deep breath, and let it out, slowly. It was alright, this was fine, keep your temper under control, old boy.

"Alright, tell you what. You boys go ahead and take a look, see what the book has to say. I'll be right here if y'find anything."

Huey, Duey, and Louie were smiling genuinely now, stood side by side, and flashed a Junior Woodchuck salute.

"You got it, Uncle Scrooge! You can count on us!"

Scrooge and Fenton watched them scurry out the door, book in hand. The old mallard walked over to his chair, and slumped into it with a tired sigh.

"Now I need an actual idea."

The younger mallard opened his bill, prepared to say something, when he just as quickly closed it. Fenton did this a few times, before finally clearing his throat as he worked up the courage to speak to the troubled duck in front of him.

"I,  _well_ … I got some ideas, if you wanna hear 'em."

" _I don't._ " Scrooge retorted curtly. Fenton chose to ignore this as he carried on anyway, his own stubbornness kicking in.

"What about hiring an image consultant? Ya know, somebody that's paid to twist and rework bad press into good press?"

"And pay MORE money?" McDuck didn't even stop to look at the other duck as he scoffed at the idiocy of the plan. "I'm losing enough as it is; I don't want to HAND my fortune away!"

The fact the older mallard hadn't told him to shut up entirely was enough encouragement for Fenton to continue, as Scrooge walked past him.

"Then what about pressing charges against Glomgold? I mean, something about spying on people HAS to be illegal!  _Probably!_ "

Scrooge's frustration, while kept at a slow simmer, boiled over when the phone rang again, only adding to the irritation of Fenton's well intended, but overall pointless, prattling. An idea man, Fenton was not.

Fenton yelped and then was silent, as the phone crashed against a nearby wall. He spun around to see Scrooge hunched over his desk, a stormy expression on his face. Fenton gulped.

"Oh. No, then? Okay, how about we-"

"Fenton, stop. There is no 'we'. I'm the one suffering from this, my image, my businesses, my money! Not you! I'll fix this mess on my own. Now will you please get out so I can hear myself think!" Scrooge punctuated this with a fist slammed on his desk, and Fenton jumped.

Fenton stood in the middle of the room, staring at the back of the much older ducker. Just… leave? Leave when his boss, his paramore, his favorite person in the whole wide world needed help the most?

Crackshell surprised even himself at the next words that came out of his bill.

"No."

" _No?!_ " Scrooge swiveled around in his chair to glare at the defiant duck. "What do ye mean by 'no'?"

"I mean I'm not leaving, Scroogey. Can't you see? This isn't about you, this is about us!" Fenton held his ground as he continued to explain where he was coming from. "It's about our relationship. It's  _you_  dating  _me_  that gotcha in the spotlight here- and I have every right to help come up with a way to solve the problem as  _you_  do!"

Scrooge's hot anger quickly skyrocketed into a bubbling rage; not only had Fenton opposed him, but he was also technically right. He shot up out of his chair, and he looked almost as if he were ready to spring from the desk to attack Fenton.

"I realize that!" the old mallard bellowed. "But what YOU don't seem to realize, is I'M the one who'll be paying for it when YOU screw it all up!"

Fenton stood there, bill agape. Where he had felt defiant and sure a moment ago, now he was hurt, humbled, and heartbroken. Because Scrooge had voiced one of his biggest worries; that despite how much he felt he had grown and learned, he was still- and would always remain-  _a screw up_.

And as surprising as it was for even him, this caused Fenton to glare back. All this time their relationship had been the younger mallard walking on eggshells as he tried to do everything to please his boss- heck, that had even been their PROFESSIONAL relationship since day one! All Fenton had wanted to do was show how much he cared, how happy Scrooge made him. And it was always about what HE wanted, never had the old duck ask HIM about his feelings. Or if he wanted to go out for lunch, or make any real effort at all! And then when a hitch came along, when their relationship was made scrutiny by the rest of the world… Scrooge didn't even think Fenton could be trusted enough to fix the problem. That he wasn't an equal, even in their own relationship.

The thought stung, and it was enough to fuel the accountant's own anger as he yelled back.

"Ya know what,  _fine!_  If… If I'm such a screw up to you, maybe I should just leave after all!"

Scrooge crossed his arms, not even phased.

" _Aye._  That's the best idea you've given yet!"

Fenton started walking backwards towards the door, continuing to yell.

"Here I am, leaving!  _Goodbye_ , you cantankerous grump! This is me, ol' Fenton Crackshell,  _exiting stage right!_  "

"Good- and don't come back!"

" _I WON'T!_ "

Fenton slammed the door to the room, loud enough for it to leave an echo throughout the mansion. And with it all his passionate rage vanished, as he realized in horror what he had just done.


	5. Boot-Strapping

* * *

 

Iva Crackshell had decided she missed Gandra Dee. At least when her son was dating her, there had been a lot less drama, and Fenton didn't constantly mope around the house like this.

She stared at him from across the breakfast table. He was eating cereal out of a boot, and didn't even seem to notice. She wasn't even sure where he had gotten that boot to begin with. The old woman continued to stare, even as he finished, got up, and dropped the boot into the sink. On his way back through, she reached out and grabbed his arm.

"Fenton, what's wrong?" Her tone was caring, but also tired. "You've been moping around here all day; is all this press malarkey really getting to you?"

"Hmm? Oh." The foggy look that had been in her son's eyes disappeared as Fenton left whatever la-la land he had preoccupied himself with. " No. I mean,  _it is_ , but not… Not in a 'breach of privacy making me uncomfortable' sorta way."

Fenton sighed as he slumped back into the seat across from his mother, as he rested his cheek on his fist with a huff.

.

"Oh M'ma, I'm just tired of being nothing but a big ol' screw up. All I seem to do is ruin the lives of people I care about. It hasn't even been a  _year_  an' already I sent two of my only relationships spiralling down the toilet!" The middle aged mallard sighed again, this time slinking until he face planted onto the table- shaking it in the process. " _Love is haaaaard._ "

"Fenton Crackshell, you are not a screw up."

The stern assertiveness in her voice caused him to raise his head and look at her. She looked back at him with eyes more full of emotion than he had seen in a good many years.

"Your father, now HE was a screw up. But you've grown into a fine young man, that any woman- or man,  _I suppose_ \- would be lucky to share the rest of their lives with."

Fenton smiled, but only a small one. He felt unshed tears burning his eyes. M'ma always knew just what to say! Okay, so that wasn't true. But those specific words did tug at his heartstrings.

"Besides," she continued with a shrug. "This'll all blow over soon enough, you'll see. The news will get tired of the story, and move on to ridicule some other poor schlump."

Fenton sighed and deflated again.

"Yeah, but by then, it'll be too late! Poor Scrooge'll be in the poor house, and I'll be in the dog house.  _Permanently!_ "

Mrs. Crackshell had grown quiet as the two stared at each other, to the point Fenton was beginning to grow worried about his mother. (Did she break in the middle of the conversation? … Was that even a thing she  _did_? How cruel of him not to have noticed her failing mental health!) When, out of the blue and jolting the accountant from his own ponderings, she finally spoke up.

"WELL… if it's bothering you so bad, why don't you just do something?"

"... Eh, I don't think I follow, M'ma."

His mother shrugged.

"I dunno, that just seems to be the thing you  _usually_  do. When there's something you don't like you tend to get all 'I'm gonna fix it' and just…  _do it._ "

_It would be really admirable, Mrs Crackshell had to admit to herself, if it didn't come off as annoying most of the time._

At that moment, Fenton could feel something breaking through that heavy numbing fog that had settled deep within him. Was it hope? Determination? Indigestion from eating his breakfast out of a boot? Whatever it was, it was welcomed. Fenton grinned.

"You're right, M'ma!" He stood up quickly. "I'm not a moper, OR a noper! I'm a doer!" He strode confidently to the front door. It was probably a good thing he had slept in his clothes the night before. Fenton opened the door, and turned back to yell to his Ma, who was still sitting in the kitchen. "I'm gonna go out there, and I'm gonna do it!"

He turned and left, and he only lost a bit of his go when the door shut behind him.

" _I just wish I knew what it was._ "

Back inside, M'ma Crackshell smiled smugly as she rose from the kitchen chair.

"Looks like I've still got it! Where's MY mother of the year award, hmm? Hmph."

Speaking of mothers, it was about time she spent some time with her own favorite mother, and probably one of her very best friends. Iva plopped down into her favorite chair, clicked on the television, and smiled warmly as her soaps started up.

* * *

Breaking the phone in his study had not been one of Scrooge McDuck's smartest moments. He may have found the constant ringing annoying at the time, but the fact the old miser would need it later was not a thought that had crossed his mind. So it was with a grumble that McDuck had Duckworth bring in the hallway phone, as he tried calling his different businesses to find out the actual damage to his companies.

And so that had been Scrooge's evening, as he wrote down figures and talked to his vice presidents. The old duck had worked into the night, receiving envelope upon envelope of collected data as he calculated loss profits. It was well into the morning of a new day- sometime in the night the papers became too much for him to manage as he had to relocated his operation into the dining room- and Scrooge was still hitting the buttons of his calculator.

Vaguely, in his sleep deprived mind, the mallard had wished Fenton had been there to help- his speedy counting would have saved him all the trouble.

'That's one thing he never screws up, anyway...' Scrooge thought bitterly. That bitterness didn't last long, though, and it was quickly replaced with guilt.

"And he was always good for a smile or two, too." this Scrooge said out loud, to an empty room, as he stared blankly, and tiredly, at the calculator in his hand. He decided he could do with a smile right about then. "I hope I wasn't too hard on the lad..."

There was a moment of silence as his own words sunk in, before he shook his head and frowned. "What am I saying? He deserved every word! Bah. I'm  _glad_  he's gone."

Scrooge hunched back over the table, and began pounding at the keys of his calculator again. He was grateful, somewhere deep inside, when his nephews came running in moments later.

"Uncle Scrooge! Uncle Scrooge!" they cried as a collective, only stopping dead in their tracks as they took in the bags under their great-uncle's eyes- the old duck suddenly looking much older than when they had left him the night before. It was Duey who was first to speak up again, as he bluntly voiced what was on his mind.

"Woah, what happened to YOU? Ya look like ya got hit by a train or somethin'."

This managed to bring a smile to Scrooge's bill, as he chuckled and turned away from his calculations.

"An' it almost feels like it, too. But nothing t'worry about, just been a long night is all." McDuck yawned as if to prove his point. "NOW, what can I do fer ye lads? Awfully early t'be running about the mansion, isn't it?"

"Maybe, but look!" Louie held their Junior Woodchuck's guide book above his head. "We found somethin' that might be able to help!"

"Oh, really?" Scrooge was good at acting intrigued by now, even if he was more amused than anything else. "Well, what is it?"

The boys crowded around the book, as Louie opened it.

"When life gives you lemons..." Duey read.

"Make lemonade!" they read together, and looked up at their uncle, who chuckled, and reach for the book.

"Ah, yes, I know that one well." Scrooge read over the line, smiled, and nodded. Then his smile faded, and he closed the book, before handing it back.

"But what they don't tell you, is that rotten lemons make for rotten lemonade."

The triplets blinked in confusion.

"Say what?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

Their great uncle sighed, deflating some in his chair- suddenly feeling far more exhausted than he had the moment before.

"It means that sometimes a situation can't be fixed by adding more sugar to it. Sometimes a batch is just too bad to even attempt drinking and you need to just know when t'throw it out."

"That sounds like quitter talk!" Huey exclaimed with wide eyes, surprised by what he was hearing.

"Yeah," Louie chipped in agreement, " and that sounds nothing like the Uncle Scrooge WE know."

"I'm still confused about what we're talking about. Are we talking about lemonade or an adult vague thing?" Duey asked in frustration.

"Both Duey, both." Scrooge straighten up in his seat as he leaned closer to the ducklings. "And there's nothing wrong with quitting something when you know it's not worth the investment. It's the profitable and logical thing to do. No sane man would put  _more_  time and money into something when he could just close up shop and find some other business."

The boys exchanged looks that were unreadable to the old mallard. Scrooge sighed to himself, as he couldn't help but link it back to the heart of the scandal- his  _association_  with a certain Fenton Crackshell. Not that it was something that required much thought, it was a no brainer- he was done with him. He had to be, if he wanted to find a way to get out of the situation with even a handful of coins left to line his pockets. It didn't matter to  _him_  if Fenton was a good lad. It didn't matter if the old duck felt a special fondness for him. It was just a bad investment- and one he shouldn't have risked to begin with. He should have KNOWN his private life wouldn't stay so private. Not when he was the world's richest duck. And he should have realized that  _of course_ his relationship involving another man would be a problem!

Scrooge hated himself for not thinking ahead, of letting the fact he  _cared_  enough for Fenton to not hurt his feelings was what was going to be his very downfall.

McDuck, however, was startled out of his gloomy thoughts when Louie opened his bill to talk.

"You know, Uncle Scrooge… just because you made nasty lemonade doesn't mean you  _have_  to start  _hating_  lemonade." He smiled as he began to recollect. "Like, I remember one time we saved up all our allowance and bought a huuuge carton of ice cream."

"Oh yeaaah," Duey giggled, as he started to see where his brother was going with the story. "We ended up eating all the peppermint swirl the same afternoon and had the WORST tummy aches."

"I even threw up!" Huey exclaimed with the biggest smile. His smile slipped, as he put his attention back on the topic at hand. "But yeah, the ice cream may have made us sick… but that doesn't mean we don't like ice cream anymore. We love it just as much as ever. There was just  _one_  time that wasn't so fun."

After Scrooge stopped trying to apply this new advice to his money troubles, a smirk tugged lopsidedly at the corner of his bill.

"Aw boys, I don't hate lemonade..." he leaned forward in his chair, and pat Duey on the head. "I'm just a little cross with it at the moment."

And with that, Scrooge swung back around to face the table, picking up his calculator and a sheet of paper, squinting at it. This seemed to be his way of letting them know the conversation was over. The boys shook their head- not believing how adults could be so stubborn sometimes- before deciding to leave their uncle in peace.

Peace, however, did not come to the old mallard. Scrooge had barely typed in a few digits into his calculator before the phone on the dining room table began to ring. Growling, the billionaire violently snatched the phone from the holder as he barked into the speaker.

"What is it NOW?!"

"Oh! I'm so sorry, Mr. McDuck. Is this a bad time?'

Scrooge's annoyance, however, found itself dissipating as he quickly realized it wasn't yet another reporter trying to pester him… but instead his trusted secretary: Mrs Quackfaster.

"No, I suppose it isn't if it's for you." The old duck sighed, feeling drained as he dreaded whatever additional bad news he just knew was to come- his secretary rarely EVER called him at the mansion. He went on. "What d'ya need, lass?"

"There's a gentleman here who wishes to discuss a lucrative business proposition with you..."

The words "lucrative business proposition" rang in Scrooge's head so loudly, he completely missed the uncertain tone in his secretary's voice.

"A lucrative business proposition, you say?" He asked, excitedly, his enthusiasm even reaching his tail as it wagged happily. He wasn't a fool; he knew he couldn't be choosy if someone actually still wanted to do business with him. For the first time in his life, Scrooge himself had become the bad investment.

"Tell 'im I'll be right over. Oh uh, you didn't happen t'catch his name, did you?"

There was a pause as McDuck assumed his secretary pulled the phone away in order to ask for the man's name again. Soft mumbling could be heard, before Mrs. Quackfaster was back on the line.

"They say they are a Mister V. O'Doo, sir."

"O'Doo?" Not a name from his billionaire's club that he recognized. Nor could he place the surname's origin. Still, Scrooge shrugged it off. "Nevermind that then, Tell Mr. O'Doo to pull up a chair. I'll be there in two shakes of a tail feather."

The old mallard hung up the phone with a smile, jumping out of his chair as he went to fetch his hat and cane. Finally some good news to distract himself from his troubles.  _Especially of the more domestic variety_. Scrooge shook his head, disposing his thoughts of Fenton as he left the room to find his driver.

"Things are finally starting to turn around for you, old boy." He said to himself jovially. "Why, I can feel my fortune beginning to change already!"

_Little did Scrooge McDuck realize just how right he was._


	6. Redeemable

* * *

 

Inspiration had a habit of striking in the oddest of ways. When Fenton Crackshell had left his friendly neighborhood trailer park, he had originally had all the gusto and none of the ideas to actually set out on his mission of fixing things for his paramore. However, that didn't deter the duck- not in the slightest! No, what he needed was an idea, and going for a walk around town had always been a good way to get the wheels turning in his head.

It was during his walk down main street that Fenton found himself stopping in his tracks, as the local television store's display of TVs caught his attention. Yet again it was the news playing a continuation of the current big story- Scrooge McDuck's romantic scandal. Fenton rested his head against the glass as he sighed, ignoring a few of the onlookers who were trying to watch as he began talking to himself.

"Gee, you'd think by now they'd get tired of this story. isn't old news supposed to be BAD news? And whatever happened to a reporter's mission to report the truth? Why, I oughtta find a way to get myself on there and… and… and tell it like it REALLY is!"

The middle aged mallard blinked a few times as the realization dawned on him, before jerking his head back with a jolt- causing the onlookers to back away from the crazed accountant.

"Blathering blatherskite! That's a great idea! Why DON'T I? I mean, I know the story better than anybody else! Who  _wouldn't_ want to hear the juicy tidbits from Scrooge McDuck's boo, himself!"

He started off toward the news station, new vigor running through his veins.

"I just hope they'll listen!"

* * *

"We're always willing to listen! I'm all ears."

Fenton gulped, his fingertips digging into the cushioned arms of the chair he was sitting in. The man behind the desk was smiling, but it was a predatory smile, with gleaming eyes to match.

'Get a hold of yourself, Crackshell!' Fenton berated himself, silently. Of course this man wasn't the monster his brain was making him out to be! It was just his nerves, yeah, he was nervous.

When Fenton had marched through the door of the news station, demanding to speak with someone, he had expected them to try turning him away. But that hadn't happened. They had seemed delighted to hear what he had to say... and perhaps that had put him off his game, so to speak.

Now the man in the dark blue business suit and wide shoulders placed a small audio recorder on the desk, before leaning forward, renewing that vicious smile.

"Well, Mr. Crackshell? You seemed so eager to share earlier! And I'm here to listen to every word."

Fenton fidgeted in his seat, trying to get comfortable. However, that seemed impossible in the uncomfortable seat and with the pig man across from him practically unwrapping him like a sweet piece of candy with his eyes. Yet, he had a mission at hand! He was there not for HIS comfort, but to help the one he loved! And it was with that thought in mind that Fenton sat straight up in the seat confidently, clearing his throat.

"Yes, well, and I have a few words to share, too! I'm not happy with what you guys have been saying about Scro- I mean, Mr. McDuck. All that stuff about him being terrible is a downright lie! Why, he's been nothing but kind- the best man I know!" Fenton paused his ranting as he got sentimental. He smiled softly and he spoke again, this time with less rage and more fondness. "Scroogey was there for me when I was in need; before I got the job of checking his books I was barely scraping by as a poor ol' bean counter. M'ma had to live on public access television, back before we could get cable! And then… and then he took another chance on me when I admitted that I, uh,  _like-liked_  him."

The duck smiled bashfully as he looked away from the reporter, fumbling with his tie.

"He really is the greatest, ya know. You guys make him out to be some sorta monster, but you should see the way he gets with his nephews! Or for some 'gold digger', he donates a lot of his findings from his adventures to museums. Not to mention the fact he pays to have Gizmoduck protect more than just his money-bin! Why, I'll go on record to say Duckburg would be NOTHING without him!"

Fenton's hopes soared as he watched the intimidating man behind the desk actually tear up. The man reached for a tissue in the desk drawer, and blew his nose, after dabbing his eyes with it.

"Mister Crackshell..." his tone spoke of a touched soul. Good, good sign! "That, is the most heartbreaking thing I've heard all week."

Fenton smiled, and nodded, enthusiastically. Finally, he was getting through to these people! They were starting to see how wrong they had been to accuse Scrooge of so much-

"It's obvious that that foul Scrooge McDuck has forced his sordid love affair slave to come here, and spout lies, to clear his good name! Do his slimy ways know no bounds?" The man was speaking into the recorder.

"What?!" Fenton cried from his chair. "No! It's not like that! I'm no slave, and he didn't force me to say anything! Why, I-"

"Tell us, has he forced you into anything else, Fenton Crackshell? Do you have any bruises you'd like to show us? Gashes, broken bones?"

Fenton's bill hung open, his wide, disbelieving eyes fixed on the recorder that had been shoved in his face. He sputtered, the words just wouldn't form.

"I... but... I... y-"

In an instant, rage broke through his shock, and he leapt up, now standing in the chair he had just been sitting in. He leaned forward, on his tippy toes, and glared daggers at the man behind the desk.

"You." the hand that wasn't on the man's desk, keeping him balanced, poked his pig nose. "Are a bad man.  **Good bye**!"

The man watched as Crackshell stormed out, slamming the door shut behind him.

"Can we quote you on that, Mr. Crackshell?" he called after him.

* * *

Unfortunately for Fenton, the other news stations that he tried speaking to were just a repeat of his first tragedy. Every time he tried telling the true story- how it  _really_  was- the reporters just wanted to twist it so that he was a helpless victim in the clutches of a rich tyrant. (One reporter even tried accusing HIM of having daddy issues!) And while he would definitely say he was feeling victimized, the middle aged duck wouldn't say it was from Scrooge McDuck!

Finally Fenton made it to the last news station in town: Duckburg's DNN (Duck News Network). The accountant had to admit that he had lost a lot of his drive, and feared that this place would just be the same disaster as the others. And yet, there was still a beacon of hope in him. Fifth time's the charm, right?

Crackshell hesitantly opened the door to the station as he made his way inside, and up to the receptionist's desk.

"Hello there, my name is Fenton Crackshell..." He was getting tired of reciting this, and his slumped posture and run down voice reflected that. "and I'd like to have a-"

"Mm-hmm. Mr. Crackshell, go right in, third cubicle on the left."

Fenton straightened and blinked at her.

"Uh, really? Just like that?" Oh, this wasn't good.

"Yep. She didn't tell me she'd successfully scheduled an appointment, so I don't know what time she was expecting you, but what else is new? I'm always the last to know." The receptionist paused to sigh and shrug. "But she should be in her cubicle, go right ahead."

Fenton thanked her awkwardly, and made his way toward the sea of cubicles.

"Huh..." he muttered to himself. "They musta' thought I was someone else! Oh well, the sooner I get this over with, the better."

The accountant had to duck and dodge people as he entered the large room where many people were busy running about- shouting out things that made no sense to Fenton at all.

"Giraffe on the loose at Duckburg Zoo!"

"Oprah Webfeet's top trending books!"

"Pumpkin Spice: More than a season?!"

Finally Fenton was able to get through the crowd as he made it to what he assumed was the right cubical. Poking his head inside the opening, what he saw was a duck woman- her hair in a long feathery pony-tail. She was on the office phone, talking excited as she curled the cord around her fingers.

"Honestly, Minnie, I don't see why you don't just pop the question yourself. These are new times, you're your own woman. And you know how men are, sometimes they won't pick up on ANY hints unless you broadcast it in big bold print: I WANT TO GET MARRIED!"

It was at that moment the woman turned around in her swivel chair, her eyes opening widely as she finally noticed the duck in the doorway.

"Hold on, Min, I got a poker here." She pulled the phone away from her face, covering it with one hand as she addressed Fenton with an overly sweet voice that did nothing to hide her annoyance. " _Yeeeees_ , may I  _HELP_  you?"

A year ago, Fenton may have missed her agitation, but since then, he had gotten pretty good at reading the signs. This only added to his tired nervousness, and he contemplated just apologizing for wasting her time and getting the heck out of there.

But this wasn't for him, he was there for Scrooge. Fenton took a deep breath, and gathered all of the gusto he could muster.

"Ma'am, my name is Fenton Crackshell, and I have a few words I'd like to-"

"Fenton Crackshell?  _You're_  the guy?"

The amused smirk on the woman's bill as she gave him a quick look-over did nothing for his confidence.

"Huh! I kind of imagined you'd be... older. Interesting."

She didn't wait for him to reply; instead she uncovered the phone and began speaking into it again.

"Hey Min? I'm real sorry, hon, but I gotta take this. Talk later? ... Great! Smooch, smooch, tootles!"

Now that the phone was back in its cradle, the woman stood up, and held a hand out for Fenton to shake.

"Fenton Crackshell, it's a pleasure to finally meet you! Daisy Duck- skilled and dedicated reporter for the DNN, at your service!"

"Uh, pleasure's all mine, Daisy!" Fenton shook her hand with a smile. At least this one seemed friendly!

"Here, take my seat." She said, waving to her chair. "Sit, sit. I've just been DYING to meet you! All of us have!"

Fenton, who had already plopped into the chair the moment she insisted, raised a brow at this.

"Uh… you and the other reporters?"

"What, no! The rest of Scrooge's family! I mean, I'm only his nephew's girlfriend. But I say having more than a good few years dealing with him and the rest of his family MUST give me some status, am I right?" Daisy laughed a little, before pulling up another chair she had in the corner of her cubicle and crossed her legs after sitting down. She smiled fondly at the duck across from her as she went on.

" Honestly, I was just ECSTATIC when I heard Scrooge had finally found somebody. We, me and the rest of the family you know, have been trying for YEARS to get him into the dating game. I mean,  _yeah_. Was surprised when I found out through the newspaper on my doorstep. But you seem nice enough!"

The smile from Daisy's bill slipped, as she began scrutinizing him- looking the middle aged duck up and down. She did this silently for a while, causing Fenton to fidget in his seat some. He was about to open his bill to say something- just to break the awkwardness he was beginning to feel- when a smile finally returned to the reporter's face.

"Yep, you're a-okay in my book. I usually have a gift for reading people, ya know- tends to come with the job. NOW," she paused, before getting back on track, "What can I do for you?"

Scrooge's nephew's girlfriend? Wow! He had really lucked out there! All of his hope for getting somewhere had been rekindled.

"Well, y'see, Daisy... mind if I call you that?"

"Of course I don't mind! You're as much family as I am at this point."

"True! Alright then, here's the deal: I'm sure you've seen what a huge mess the press has made of our,  _ah_ , relationship?"

Daisy nodded at him, sympathetically from where she sat, arms crossed.

"Well, what I aim to do, is turn all this bad press, into good press! Get the real story out there! It's a love story, not a crime scene, you know?"

"Yes, I do know, regrettably... the press can be brutal, trust me, I've been there. Right in the heart of it you might say!"

Daisy frowned when Fenton gave her a mournful, hurt gaze.

"What? Oh! No! I can guarantee you, Fenton, no one from this station has said a word about your... situation."

Fenton sighed, hung his head, then peeked up at her, a weak smile on his face.

"I'm glad someone's on our side. I just wish I knew how to do all of those things I said I wanted to do..."

"Well," Daisy began, flicking her ponytail as she grinned with pride- puffing out her chest, "lucky for you that you came to the right place. Just give me a wand and some blue robes, and call me your fairy godmother- because I'm going to work some reporter magic!"

Fenton found himself ducking as the woman jumped from her chair and reached over him to grab the phone off the desk. After pressing a few buttons, it didn't take too long for whoever was on the other end to respond.

"Yeah, Carol? Clear my schedule. Mr. Crackshell and I have some work to do."

* * *

Meanwhile, Scrooge McDuck and Duckworth had just pulled up to his money-bin. It didn't take him long before he was inside, and up to the proper floor where his workers were busy working away. With a few more strides he made it to his secretary's desk: where Mrs. Quackfaster was busy pouring a glass for the man sitting in a cushioned chair next to her. The man, who Scrooge presumed was a Mr. O'Doo, was an older gentleman wearing spectacles and sporting a scruffy black beard. His bushy brows raised as he finally spotted the billionaire he had been waiting for, as he stood up to greet him.

McDuck was the first to speak as he shook the extended hand.

"Mr. O'Doo, yes?"

"Ah, yes! It is pleasure to meet you, Mr. McDuck. I have heard many things about you."

"Oh?" Scrooge asked, hopefully.

"All not so good things."

"Oh. Yes, well..."

While Scrooge's smile had vanished, Mr. O'Doo chuckled.

"Not to worry, Mr. McDuck! I am being opportunist, and I know potential when I see it! I have plan that should help us both out."

Scrooge watched the man pat his hefty briefcase, and then nodded.

"Alright, I'll bite. Eh, why don't we step into my office to discuss it further?"

It didn't take long to walk into Scrooge's office, and once inside the old miser realized the only other seating he had was the metal chair he had bought from a yard sale- and at a fair bargain, too. STILL, bargain or no bargain, that was unacceptable seating for someone he was hoping to do business with. Clearing his throat, Mr. McDuck quickly sprinted behind his desk as he pulled out his cushioned chair for his guest.

"Please, sit in my chair. I prefer standing when talking shop, anyhow. Gets the ol' blood pumping to the brain, and what not."

"If you are insisting, Mr. McDuck." The foreign business man plopped into the offered seat, putting his briefcase onto his lap as he turned to the mallard next to him. "Now… about what I am having to offer you. You are owning company of Pep, yes?"

"' _Pep_ '?!" Scrooge cried, eyes opening widely as he was suddenly forced to recollect the time Fenton had been his business partner in selling Gyro's flubblegum- gum that caused people to float when they chewed it. Scrooge crossed his arms, doing his best not to glare at the memories.

" _Aye_ ," the old mallard finally admitted, "Pep was a product I manufactured for a while. Unfortunately, we-  _I_  made no profits from the big flub of a dud. The side effects outweighed the appeal."

"That is not being true," O'Doo argued, wagging his finger as he teased Scrooge. He opened the briefcase on his lap, before pulling out a sheet of paper. "Findings are showing that before you are recalling this Pep, it made rich duck quite the fortune."

Scrooge McDuck rolled his eyes.

"Bah. What's the point of a fortune if you just end up turning around and giving it back?"

"What if I am saying I am having way to make a new fortune without you giving it back?"

"Well, I uh..." Scrooge faltered. He wasn't sure he wanted to relive that nightmare all over again... but he was in too deep of a rut to not at least hear him out. "Keep talking."

Mr. O'Doo smiled at Scrooge.

"I would like to buy every bit of product you have left, the recipe, and rights of ownership."

"What?!" Scrooge was shocked and confused. "What for?" It was just a bunch of useless goop! But perhaps profitable useless goop...

The foreign man adjusted his glasses, and resituated himself more comfortably in the cushioned chair.

"I am being glad you asked! You see, I have scientists working on formula now, that will change hazardous gum, into valuable and efficient airplane fuel..."

"Airplane fuel...?" Scrooge repeated, incredulously.

The other mallard glared.

"YES, airplane fuel! Are you being de-" Mr. O'Doo coughed into his fist, cutting whatever he was about to say. He cleared his throat, this time with the glare wiped off his face. "Er, excuse me. Not being used to weather. But yes, you are not needing to be surprised. In liquid state, this Pep would be a cheaper way of getting plane off of ground. It could be rejuvenating flight as we know it! Surely you are seeing potential?"

McDuck leaned against his desk, his arm just barely brushing up against the glass case housing his number one dime.

"Well, sure." Scrooge said, suddenly berating himself over the fact HE hadn't been the one to think up such a lucrative idea. Especially after having used the stuff to keep a mobile home in the air! " I'm just surprised by the sudden offer, is all. However, as they say, talk and probabilities are cheap. What price are you offering for the formula?"

The man reached back into his briefcase, and handed Scrooge a sheet of paper.

"This much."

Scrooge took the paper, and began reading it over, silently. When he came to the amount printed at the bottom, his bill dropped open.

"That much?!" That… that was a lot of zeros. Was this man insane? Sure, if the stuff worked, he would easily make this back and more in a few years, selling to airlines and whatnot, but...

But Scrooge realized he couldn't afford to turn this deal down. Not now, not the way things were looking for him. He sighed, and stuck out his hand.

"Mister O'Doo, you've got yourself a deal."

The hand was accepted gratefully, and shook enthusiastically.

"Good, good! I knew you were smart man, Scrooge McDuck!"

Scrooge laughed nervously, before stealing his hand back and clearing his throat.

"Now, let me just..." Scrooge bent over, and began rummaging through a bottom drawer. " find the necessary papers, here..."

Mr. O'Doo nodded, despite Scrooge not being able to see him, and slipped out of the chair.

"Yes, good idea. Meanwhile, I will uh... be going to the bathroom. Excuse."

"Yes, yes," Scrooge replied, distractedly, still looking for the proper papers. "Down the hall, you can't miss it..."

"Thank you..." O'Doo's friendly smile slipped into a sly smirk, as he left the room- casually stuffing the glass case containing Scrooge's dime into his coat pocket as he passed by.

"No, that's not it," the billionaire mumbled, still ignorant of the theft. "No, not these either. I should REALLY have that blasted secretary organize these drawers...AHA!"

Scrooge pulled out the papers in triumph, proudly slapping them onto the desktop- perhaps a little too roughly as the table shook. Going by instinct, McDuck went out to reach for his glass case- just so it wouldn't tumble onto the floor and break. It was in that moment, however, Scrooge noticed that not only was his case gone… but his number one dime with it!

"GYAH! Me dime! Where?!"

The old mallard threw himself onto the floor as he began searching for the case. patting under the desk, before crawling over to the other side. It was in that moment, when his head accidentally bumped against the chair that his new business associate was sitting in, that a new realization struck.

"They… they stole my dime!"

* * *

Fenton was feeling pretty proud of himself. He was feeling pretty confident, and perhaps that was what had given him the courage to show up at Scrooge's money-bin to tell him the good news!

He had briefly considered showing up as Gizmoduck, who was due for his daily rounds, anyway. But he had ultimately decided that this was a matter to be discussed between love and lover, not between boss and dedicated worker!

His happy stroll through the money-bin doors didn't last very long. He had barely made it to the first flight of stairs, before he ran into a man that was quite obviously in a hurry. Causing both of the men to tumble and crash to the ground.

Fenton had been the first to come to his senses as he sprung to his feet, horrified to have knocked down a feeble oldtimer. Or anyone, for that matter. The middle aged duck grabbed onto their arm of their black jacket, as he tried to help them up.

"Gee, I am SO sorry sir! Are you hurt? Need me to call for help? HELP! SOMEBODY! Old man down, OLD MAN DOWN!"

The old man, instead of being thankful, snapped as he shook out of the other's grip and grabbed onto Crackshell's noisy bill.

"Would you be quiet, you big stupid lout! I am not needing your help!"

And with that the old man began scurrying off again. Fenton huffed, as he crossed his arms in frustration.

"Talk about rude! You run into a guy, and ya don't even stop to apologize. Oh, what is this world coming to!" Fenton's rantings, however, were put on hold as he spotted something on the ground where the oldtimer had fallen. "H-hey, wait! Mister! You dropped your-" his brows sprang upward in surprise as he recognized the item. "Scrooge's lucky dime?!"

The next thing the accountant knew, he was tackled to the ground.

"I've got you now, you low-down, no good dime thie- Fenton?!"

It took a moment for the middle aged duck to realize what had happened, and a second longer to realize he had been pummelled to the ground by just the duck he was looking for. Fenton was relieved to see the rage in Scrooge's eyes soften, and the fist he had raised, lowered. Why, even the fist clutching the collar of his shirt loosened a little! He smiled sheepishly up at Scrooge.

"Hey there, Scroogey!"

"But why... how did... you got me lucky dime back? ... All by yourself? Without any... help?"

The way he glanced around at the word "help", told Fenton he was talking about the Gizmosuit. Scrooge also must have noticed they were being stared at, because he climbed off of Fenton and brushed himself off, before helping Fenton up.

"Uh, yup! I guess I did!" Fenton replied, looking at the glass case in his hand, and scratching his head with his free hand. He was about to hand it back, when he felt arms wrap around his midsection.

He couldn't believe it. Scrooge McDuck was hugging him. On purpose! He gingerly returned the hug.

"Thank you, Fenton. And...  _and I'm sorry._ "

The accountant had a feeling the apology was for a good more than knocking him over. That it more than likely had to do with their fight the day before. Fenton smiled softly; he was just about to reply back, when a few of the onlookers awwed in chorus. Scrooge shot them a deadly glare, and let go to shake his cane at them.

"Oh, shut up and get back to work! I ain't payin' ya to stand around with your gabs agape."

The crowd, however, didn't get the chance to go back to work- for just at that very moment the room exploded in vile smoke. The civilians, including the likes of Scrooge and Fenton, gasped as a familiar voice boomed and echoed off the walls.

"HOW DARE YOU TAKE WHAT IS MINE!" The smoke began to clear, and hovering off the ground above them on a broom was Mr. O'Doo. "I did NOT go through all that scheming for lovers to be having happy ending with MY dime!"

Fenton gasped.

"It's the old man from before!"

"No," Scrooge yelled, "it's that dirty, rotten witch: Magica de Spell!"

"Ohh, aren't you smart one!"

Scrooge and Fenton shielded their eyes from the bright flash, and when their vision cleared, Magica had taken Mr. O'Doo's place. She pointed at Fenton, who stared at her fearfully as he clutched the treasured glass dome to his chest.

"You! Give me dime, or it will be last mistake you ever make!"

Fear rooted him in place, and there wasn't much he could do, even as the witch sped toward him on her broom, right hand glowing and sparking with magical force. He half-turned, shielding the dime with his body, shutting his eyes tight, and waited.

But, of course, the impact never came. Instead, there was a dull cracking sound, a cry of surprise and pain- perhaps even anger- and a gasp from the employees, who had been hiding under their desks.

Fenton opened his eyes. Magica lay sprawled out on the floor. Scrooge stood in front of him, sleeves rolled up, and his fists still clenched.

"Now THAT'S something you've had a long time coming, you old hag!" No reply came from the sorceress, as the force of the punch and getting thrown off her broom was enough to knock her out cold. McDuck huffed, before barking orders once more. "And would ONE of you call the police already? I don't pay ye lot to stand around and do nothing!"

Fenton Crackshell, however, had been standing behind the old mallard with his mouth hung open in astonishment. Had he… _really_  just witnessed that? Not that he condoned violence or anything, but his heart pitter pattered heavily in his chest in admiration as he, oddly enough, felt himself falling in love all over again. This was the Scrooge McDuck he had heard stories about, this was the Scrooge McDuck he aspired to be just as dashing and brave as!

It was also the same Scrooge McDuck that was smirking at him coyly, as he caught on to the attention.

"If you like that, laddie, you should have seen me in my heyday. I was taking out grizzly bears long before old croons."

"I… I really wish I could've." Fenton admitted. He shook his head, clearing his mind as he recalled the glass casing in his mitts. He gulped before holding it out towards the much older duck. "Oh, er, you'll probably be wanting this back."

" _Aye_ , and you'd be right!" The case was swiped, and Scrooge immediately began shining it with the sleeve of his shirt. Then he kissed it.

"I've said it once, I'll say it again; I don't know what I'd do without you."

Fenton chuckled awkwardly, as he watched Scrooge cuddle his dime.

"Heh! You almost found out! That Magica came  _this close_  to gettin' away with your lucky dime!"

Scrooge scoffed, and reached up to ruffle the mop of feathers atop Fenton's head as he passed him, already on his way back to his office.

"I was talking to you, you big doofus."

There went Fenton's heart again. Why, if it fluttered any more, he swore it just might fly right away without him! He was already beginning to follow behind like a happy, needy puppy, when Scrooge spoke up again, without turning around.

"I trust you'll be able to handle the police when they arrive? Give them the details, all that?"

"Wuh? Oh. Oh sure!" Fenton stood up straight as he saluted, a comically serious expression on his face. "I'll tell them the whole story, with hand charades if I gotta! The cops will have so many details they'll wanna paint an actual picture! And further more-"

Scrooge had left long before his boyfriend could finish his ramblings. Huh, he must have been eager to put his dime away so it wouldn't get stolen again. Couldn't say he blamed him! Still, with all the excitement out of the way, another realization dawned on him.

"Shoot, I never got to tell him the good news!"

Scrooge McDuck would have to wait and be surprised, just like the rest of Duckburg.

 


	7. Profit

* * *

 

Another day, another time. It had been a few days since the incident with Magica de Spell at the money-bin, and things were starting to feel somewhat normal again. Though the news still prattled on about Scrooge McDuck and his personal matters, the old miser found himself more relaxed about it- no longer feeling stressed. After talking with his go-to inventor- Gyro Gearloose- Scrooge was surprised to find out that while Magica had used the idea of turning flubblegum into a fuel for airplanes as part of the additional ruse to her Mr. O'Doo disguise… that her idea was  _actually_  feasible. And cheap, too! Suddenly the old mallard didn't feel as hopeless as he did before, the new business venture giving him some of his old pep once more.

His relationship with Fenton Crackshell, however, was another matter entirely.

It was not an easy feat to be seen with his young suitor in public, as the paparazzi was still very much a problem. However, luckily the two were about to go about business as somewhat usual. From a working relationship, anyhow. Scrooge couldn't help but find himself growing more awkward around the lad when they were alone in private. Fenton's fingers accidentally grazing his own as he passed him papers was enough to cause McDuck to fumble and drop them- the reports falling all over the desk and floor. And when it wasn't that, it was Scrooge being hyper aware of their closeness, or the fact he would sometimes catch himself staring off into space thinking about him- wasting minutes at a time on such fleeting fancies.

Scrooge McDuck was far too old to be dealing with this sort of nonsense. And it was with that thought in mind, when Fenton had asked if he could come over for dinner that evening, that the billionaire knew that he needed to have a talk.

Fenton was in the process of setting the table- a task he had insisted upon- when Scrooge suggested he sit down for a minute.

"Sit down? Nah! I feel fine! Great, even!" And he did, too. Sure, he hadn't missed how awkward it had been between them lately, either; but Scrooge wasn't yelling at him anymore, and he felt that must be a step in the right direction.

"Fenton... just sit down. We need t'have a talk, before this date goes on any further."

The plates Fenton had been carrying clattered to the floor, miraculously unbroken. They were picked up with shaking hands, and he sat down with rubber knees. Fenton stared at Scrooge from across the table, with wide, mournful eyes. Was this it? After everything their relationship had survived, did it truly just end here? Striked down while still in its honeymoon prime?

Scrooge looked back at him, expression serious, seemingly untouched by the puppy eyes he was receiving.

"Fenton, listen. I..."

"Mr. McDuck!" Mrs. Beakley bounded into the room, slightly out of breath. When she saw the two sitting there, she looked bashful. "Oh! Pardon me, I didn't mean to interrupt anything. But Mr. McDuck, there's something on the television I think you might want to see!"

Scrooge wasn't happy to be disrupted, but despite this he raised a brow as he began to get up from the table. He threw his date a look, nodding his head towards the door.

"Put my thought on hold for a minute lad, and c'mon. Let's see what the hullabaloo's about."

Crackshell found himself momentarily relieved for the interruption as he followed the duck out of the dining area and into the family room- where the children and Duckworth had the television on and were watching with interest. When their uncle made it inside, the lads and Webbigail lept from the couch as they ran towards the old mallard- grabbing and dragging him by the hands.

"C'mon, Uncle Scrooge!" Huey chimmed. "Ya gotta hurry or you'll miss it!"

Scrooge smiled despite his confusion, laughing as he was dragged towards his favorite old chair.

"Alright, alright. I can only go so fast, ye know. What in the world is all the excitement about?"

It was Webby who spoke up before her young male counterparts, nearly jumping from the floor in excitement.

"They're talking about you on tv!"

"Bah, is THAT all? They've been doing that for weeks now."

"Yeah, but this time it's all good things!" Dewey replied.

"Good things?" Scrooge gazed in wonder at the television screen, where he saw- "Well I'll be; it's Daisy!"

The room quieted down, and Fenton watched from beside the chair Scrooge was sitting in, smiling. Daisy may have just saved more than Scrooge's businesses!

"- But enough about what I think," Daisy was saying, "let's see what some other citizens have to say, shall we?"

The camera cut to a cluttered workshop. Scrooge chuckled, his small smile widening into a grin when he saw Gyro.

"Gyro Gearloose, long time freelance employee of Mr. McDuck, your thoughts on Scrooge McDuck and his recent love interest?"

"Oh! Uh..." The lanky inventor smiled awkwardly at the camera. "well, I know that Scrooge McDuck and Fenton Crackshell are two of the best people I know. In fact, uh, here, let me just..."

There was clanking and rattling as he dug through a box on his cluttered table.

"Ah, here we go! Look here. I always looked at Scrooge McDuck as a negative personality type..." he held up a flat magnet, a minus sign etched into its surface. "And here, we have Crackshell, obviously a positive type..." he held up an identical magnet, this one with a positive sign on it.

"And when those two types come together..." he brought them closer and closer, until they snapped firmly together on their own. "See what I mean? Opposites attract! Gender isn't always a part of the equation."

Gyro paused as he looked awkwardly at the reporter off screen, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Is that enough? Because I can also get out the chemistry set and explain bonding, if ya want."

As if to answer his question the screen went to black as it cut away again- this time to an old pig couple. At first Scrooge found himself confused, not recognizing them in the slightest. It took an animated Fenton to point at the screen and remind him that they were the owners of the cafe that they went to before McDuck found himself leaning in his seat- equally as eager to hear what they had to say.

It was Daisy who spoke up first as she stood next to the couple.

"And here we are at Dee's Cafe- with local business owner Mr. and Mrs. Dee" The reporter held out her microphone to the other woman, who smiled widely and waved into the camera. "Now, how is it that you know Scrooge McDuck and a Mr. Crackshell?"

"Oh, I would hardly say I know Mr. McDuck- but Fenton is such a sweet young man! He comes into the restaurant at LEAST once a week. Isn't that right, Harold?"

Her husband, arms crossed, merely leaned towards his wife as he spoke a blunt 'Yup' into the microphone. Mrs. Dee went on.

"Yes, but one time he WAS able to bring Mr. McDuck in- just a couple of weeks ago if I recall. Why, they made the cutest little couple! Never seen two happier people enjoy each other's company. In fact,  _and why I'm so embarrassed_ , I thought they were  _kin_ at first! It was only later when I read the paper say all those rude things about the two did I realize he was  _the_  Scrooge McDuck!"

"So," Daisy looked serious as she asked her next question. "You, an average tax paying citizen, aren't bothered by the relationship?"

The pig woman gasped, looking as if Daisy had asked her to break the heart of a kitten or something of the like.

""Oh HEAVENS no! Why, if anything, I'm more bothered they haven't come back for another helpin' of our cooking. Mr. McDuck never DID try my famous strawberry rhubarb pie!"

Daisy gave the camera a smug look, and thanked the woman, before the camera changed again. This time, the location seemed to be Scrooge McDuck's money-bin, and the interviewee was-

"Hey, look, it's Gizmoduck!" the boys chorused.

Scrooge turned and threw Fenton an unreadable glance. Fenton grinned and shrugged.

"Gizmoduck, Duckburg's most loved, and trusted protector. What are your thoughts on Scrooge McDuck's recent so-called scandal?"

Gizmoduck had to bend down a little to reach the microphone.

"Well, Daisy, I think it's the best thing to ever happen to either of them! Why, Mr. McDuck is the love of Fenton's life, the pep in his step, the sunshine in his day! " Gizmoduck forced himself to pause and clear his throat, realizing that he was beginning to sound like a certain accountant more than his heroic usual self. "... Er. So he's told me, anyhow."

"And you hardly think either of them a 'deviant' for it?" The reporter asked, clearly addressing one of the claims made by another station.

The metallic hero of justice frowned, crossing his arms against the chestplate of his suit.

" _Hardly_. I go up against REAL deviants every day- those that put themselves above the law and wish to do wrong to others. Thieves, scoundrels, ne'er do wells! Why, if anything it's refreshing to see two citizens stand up for love- even if it may be different than what some people are used to. We could all do with a little more love and a little less war, wouldn't you say Miss Daisy?"

The woman next to him smiled genuinely, as she gently patted the side of his Gizmosuit in a friendly gesture.

"Couldn't have said it better myself, hun. And it seems Gizmoduck isn't the only one who thinks that way. We at DNN went around polling people in downtown Duckburg to see what people REALLY think about this 'scandal'. Fifty-two percent of the votes seem to support the couple, saying that they would gladly buy McDuck products in support of the LGBT community- which is already starting to be seen in the stock market with a rise of McDuck Industries stock. Thirty-nine percent of the votes seemed to indicate they simply didn't have a thought one way or another, with only nine percent actually seeing it negatively impact them.

"Despite what other media sources are having you believe, Scrooge McDuck's celebrity status is having a positive impact for gay rights in the city- as it in causing citizens' to discuss the topic within the community. And it is rumored that Gary Cluckson- head of the Duckburg Pride Parade counsel- is looking to invite the world's richest duck to be a guest speaker for their upcoming 'Youth Pride' dinner."

Daisy paused, taking a moment to let all that sink in as she beamed smugly into the camera.

"This has been Daisy Duck, reporting the REAL news. Back to you, Tom."

The news continued on, but it went ignored.

"Well, I'll be..." Scrooge mused aloud, smiling. He felt as if the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. What a fool he had been to believe the press when they had said everyone was up in arms about all of this. Of course, it was obvious he wasn't the only one who had believed it, when you looked at just how many business partners fled in fear of his new infamous reputation.

"See, Uncle Scrooge?" Louie said from the floor. "Not everyone thinks you're weird, after all!"

Scrooge chuckled. "Aye. And I was a fool for taking their word for it to begin ..." he slid out of the chair, and sighed.

"Now why don't you four find something t'do. Fenton and me still need to have a talk."

The boys thought about complaining, but honestly, they didn't want to stick around for any mushy stuff, so they mumbled their "fine" s and "okay, Uncle Scrooge' s and disappeared upstairs. Mrs. Beakley took Webbigail into the kitchen.

Fenton watched them go, in a sort of panic.

"Uh, wait! Don't go! Uh, how about another story night? Doesn't that sound fun? ... Kids?"

But they were gone. He turned back to Scrooge, and swallowed the lump in his throat.

"Uh... heh heh. So! That pep rally, you going, or nah? Let's talk about that."

The old mallard, however, looked at Fenton with a deadpan expression- showing he would not be swayed from the topic at hand. Fenton sighed, before making his way back to the sofa where he sat across from his soon to be ex-boyfriend. The account slouched in his seat, looking more like a puddle of depression than a duck.

"Alright, Scroogey, let's get this over with. What did ya want to talk about, exactly?"

"I think you perfectly know what: I want to talk about… us. Or rather, I suppose, talk about  _me_. Surely you've noticed I haven't been myself as of late."

Even Crackshell wasn't THAT obvious. Fenton looked over from the couch as he nodded his head in agreement.

"Er, yeah. I kinda just assumed you've been all over the place from all the news hooey. You HAVE been under a lot of stress lately."

" _Aye_ , that I have. Yet… I suppose a great deal of my blunderin' has been because I've been distracted by other, non-worked related, things." A pause. "You, Fenton. I'm talking about this… this  _thing_  between us. You CAN'T be blind t'the fact that we don't always see…  _eye to eye_  on things. And heavens knows I'm not as young as I used t'be. Doesn't any of that  _bother_  ya, lad?"

That feeling that comes from realizing your point you've been stressing still isn't getting through, fell over Fenton.

"No, Scroogey, your age doesn't matter to me!" Fenton insisted, his tone and gestures reflecting his slight frustration. "You make me happy. You give me life, you give me purpose! You're a real go-getter with a heart of gold. And no matter how much of a screw up I can be, you've never truly given up on me.  _Those_ are the things that matter to  _me_."

Scrooge smiled weakly at the lad, and then glanced away.

"And you're absolutely sure about that?"

"Yes! A million times yes! I love you, Scrooge McDuck, and I've never been more sure of anything in my entire life!"

Scrooge couldn't help but snicker at that; Fenton always did have a flair for the overly dramatic.

"Alright, lad. I won't say I'm smitten... but consider this old fish caught."

Silence momentarily hung in the air between them as Fenton stared at the old miser across from him. He blinked. Blinked again. And then blinked once more for good measure, as the accountant tried to process what he had just heard. Once the pieces fell into place, Fenton gasped as he lept from his seat- pointing dramatically at McDuck.

"You're not breaking up with me! In, in fact… That's the OPPOSITE of breaking up-  _YOU JUST SAID YOU LOVED ME_!"

Scrooge scoffed, a smirk still on his bill.

"Now I never said  _that_."

Fenton ignored him as he got closer to McDuck's chair, grabbing the old man's hands as he beamed widely- his eyes slightly teary from his own happiness.

"You said you love me an' ya wanna be with me!  _Oh Scroogey_ …"

" _Mmm_ , that's starting t'be a little warmer,  _I suppose_." The old mallard's smugness never disappeared, even as the middle aged duck put his forehead against his own- for once the gesture being welcoming as he continued to tease. "But don't ye go thinking ye have special privileges. In fact,  _I'm going to be harder on you than ever_. I  _expect_  more from you now, laddie. And so do the youngins."

_Welcome to the family, Fenton._

* * *

Scrooge McDuck may not have accepted the invitation to the benefit dinner for the young members of the LGBT community… But that wasn't to say he didn't have plans of his own. Feeling inspired by the growing profits in his companies- what Daisy Duck had said had indeed been true, more people were buying his products than what was being boycotted- Scrooge couldn't help but feel an increasing sense of giddiness as his money pile grew and grew. The winds of fate had changed, and suddenly Scrooge's name was all over the papers for POSITIVE reasons.

" **Scrooge McDuck's fortune nearly doubled in last week."**

" **Gay icon, Scrooge McDuck, back on top as richest duck in the world."**

" **McDuck Industries hints of new product that will change transportation as we know it."**

It was all the positive feedback that gave the old mallard the idea to hold a press conference of his own, finally addressing all the attention his name has been given. The turnout was enormous, and a good portion of the crowd were sporting pride attire and flags from across the spectrum. Scrooge saw men, women, and even children in the crowd, talking amongst themselves as they waited for him to step up and say what needed to be said.

"I can hardly believe it... look at all these people!" But of course he did believe it, because his cashflow had reflected the influx of supporters, and the numbers didn't lie.

"Yup!" Gizmoduck lifted his visor to peer out at the crowd, himself. "Three-hundred-and-seventy-four, to be exact! All cheering for you, Mr. McDuck!"

"Cheering for us, perhaps." Scrooge corrected. Gizmoduck's visor snapped down, as he looked back at Scrooge, with mock shock.

"Mr. McDuck! I, I don't know what to say... what would Fenton think?"

Scrooge laughed, despite himself, in an uncharacteristically good mood this day.

"You know what I meant, Gizmoduck."

"Maaaybe." The hero flashed a huge grin, before straightening up once more in his suit- going back into work mode. "That said, I should probably get going and survey the crowd up close and personally. No rotten tomatoes will be thrown today, not on MY watch!"

"Gizmoduck.. I'm sure if there was an incident, vegetable produce would be the  _least_  of my worries." The crowd suddenly started to cheer as McDuck's name was suddenly being chanted. "Ah, I'll be takin' that as my cue then."

The old mallard stepped from behind the red curtains, and the crowd roared louder in approval as photographers snapped photo after photo- no doubt wantings some good shots for the articles they would be writing and printing for the next morning's papers. Scrooge stepped up to the podium, waving for the crowd to settle some so he could begin speaking.

"Thank you all for coming out today; why, I haven't seen this many people in town square since Duckburg was founded. An' trust me, youngins,  _I was there when it happened_."

Scrooge waited for the crowd to laugh at his joke about his age before carrying on.

"Now, I'm sure the lot of you have been hearing stories all over the place about me and a relationship with a Mr. Crackshell and I wanted to clear the air on a few things: I may come from a more conservative time- but in no way are my business practices conventional. Since day one McDuck Industries has strived t'be innovative in not only the products we produce… but also how we go about serving the customers. As hard as it is fer me to believe at times, we are certainly livin' in a new era- and I'll be damned if I'd standby and let business practices be indicated by something as trivial as judging the individual!"

He paused again as the crowd cheered and clapped, a few shouting praise and agreement. Scrooge revelled in it. It was a welcome change in events. When they had finally settled down, he continued.

"I'm glad we're all in agreement. Now that that's out of the way, I'd like to discuss a little business endeavor I've been working on- with the help of my good friend, Gyro Gearloose, of course."

Right on cue (for a change), the low droning of an airplane could be heard in the distance. The audience exchanged glances, and muttered to one another, as the sound grew louder, closer. Suddenly, a woman pointed up into the sky, and every head turned up to the sky as she shouted.

"Look! It's a bird!"

Someone else: "No, it's a plane!"

" _It's both_!"

The crowd began to grow nervous as it came ever closer. Scrooge was feeling pretty nervous, himself, suddenly wondering if hiring  _that_  particular pilot for the job was such a great idea after all.

A symphony of screams arose from the crowd as the aircraft swooped overhead, just barely missing a few of the taller attendees. Those screams turned to delighted laughter as it pulled up just in time, and a sweet, pleasant smell wafted through the air in its wake.

Scrooge noticed their pleased reactions, and chuckled into the microphone.

"Smell that? That's the smell of the best idea of the century!"

Scrooge cringed, and the crowd gasped, as the plane touched down a ways away, skidding across the dirt and talking out two trees and a bench on its way.

"Er, besides the poor landin' skills of my personal pilot proving otherwise, it's also eco-friendly! What you just witnessed was a new type of aviation fuel- something we at McDuck Industries are calling 'Flubble Oil'. It's cheaper than kerosene to make, healthier for the environment, and hardly weighs a thing at all! And with it, it's sure to transform flight as we know it. Imagine with me, if ya would: visiting relatives can be quite the taxing avenue for both your mental well being and wallet. But it doesn't have t'be- for your pockets, anyhow. I make no guarantees on yer relatives." The old mallard paused again as the audience laughed. Scrooge continued. " Yes, cheaper fuel equals cheaper flights. No longer will Thanksgiving dinner cost over six hundred dollars for just a few hours in a crammed non-reclining seat!"

The crowd cheered loudly, and yet again the chanting started. Scrooge McDuck laughed, taking in the energy as he mentally praised himself over the people eating up his every word. This was what he had been missing, this was what he had needed. And there was no doubt that after this performance his office would be flooded with calls from buyers from all around the globe!

Scrooge smiled smugly as he raised his hand again, signalling that he had more to say.

"I'll admit, I've been very blessed with this new venture. I doubt things would've come along so nicely if it weren't for my _personal_ guest I've invited t'watch the show from backstage- the one who is responsible fer me new fortune and luck: Flintheart Glomgold!"

The curtains pulled away to show a very startled, but equally familiar, old duck. Glomgold straightened up with a jolt, before readjusting his tie just to give him something to distract the audience from the fact his face had been flushed red from rage just mere moments before. Scrooge, however, strolled over to his business counterpart as he with a false friendly airs, slapped the South-African duck on the back forcefully.

"Haha! Thanks, ya old goat! All that free publicity was awful kind of you. Here, have a free sticker to show my gratitude."

A bright, circular, rainbow print sticker was slapped onto the front of Glomgold's jacket, and he cringed when Scrooge draped an arm around his shoulders and lead him to the front of the crowd.

"Let's hear a round of applause, for the second- oh! I'm sorry,  _third_  most wealthy duck in the world!"

Glomgold smiled forcefully, as McDuck continued to wave to the crowd. The gruff mallard leaned in towards the other subtly, as he growled through his teeth at his enemy.

"I'll get you back for this,  _McDuck_. Mark my words:  **you won't have the last laugh.** "

"Ya know, Flinty," the world's richest duck hugged the man next to him even tighter, as he chuckled for added effect. " _I think I just did._ "

**.:The End:.**

 


End file.
